I     LIBRARY     | 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CALIFORNIA 

I       SAN  CNEGQ       ! 


Escape  of  Rev.  Thomas  Andros,from  the  Old  Jersey  Prison 
Ship,  during  the  Revolutionary  War.  (\\Tilterj  recantly.by 


iselfj      SecPaye  Z69.  Vol  77. 


THE 


MUSEUM 


REMARKABLE  AND  INTERESTING  EVENTS, 


CONTAINING 


HISTORICAL  ADVENTURES  AND  INCIDENTS 


TRAVELS  AND  VOYAGES,  SCENES  OF  PERIL  AND  ESCAPES,  MILITARY 

ACHIEVEMENTS,   ECCENTRIC    PERSONAGES,   NOBLE   EXAMPLES 

OF  FORTITUDE  AND  PATRIOTISM;  WITH  VARIOUS  OTHER 

ENTERTAINING  NARRATIVES,  ANECDOTES,  ETC. 

xaroxsman 

A  FULL  ACCOUNT  OF  TUB  CAPTIVITY  AND  TRULY  WONDERFUL   ESCAPE   OF  THOMAS 

ANDEOS  FROM  THE  OLD  JERSEY  PRISON   SHIP  DURING   THE 

REVOLUTIONARY  WAR. 


TWO   VOLUMES    IN    ONE. 


'TKUTH    18  SOMETIMES   MORE  8TKAXGE  THAN  FICTION.1 


NEW   YORK: 

PUBLISHED    BY    J.  WATTS. 
1855. 


\ 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844, 

By  SANFORD  &  HAYWARD, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  State  of  Ohio. 


PREFACE. 


MANKIND  are  creatures  of  sentiment  and  feeling,  as  well 
as  of  intelligence.  Knowledge  is  chiefly  interesting  as  it 
contributes  to  the  development  of  feeling.  The  gratifica- 
tion which  it  affords,  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  incen- 
tives to  the  acquisition  of  it ;  and  is  often  an  ample  com- 
pensation for  the  expense  and  toil  of  acquisition. 

This  is  particularly  the  case  with  that  portion  of  human 
knowledge,  which  relates  directly  to  the  beautiful  or  sub- 
lime. Aside  from  the  many  other  advantages  which  it 
affords,  it  is  a  source  of  immediate  and  abundant  pleasure. 
It  often  fills  us  with  inexpressible  delight.  Though  it  falls 
below  the  dignity  and  importance  of  the  spiritual  and  reli- 
gious, it  rises  far  above  the  merely  sensual.  We  contem- 
plate the  beautiful  with  a  calm  delight,  but  trace  the  sub- 
lime with  impassioned  and  overpowering  interest.  When 
our  susceptibility  to  impression  from  the  sublime  and  won- 
derful is  fully  developed,  it  becomes  a  most  commanding 
principle  of  action.  It  leads  us  to  climb  the  cloud-capt 
mountain,  and  explore  the  untrodden  wilds  of  the  forest. 
The  ocean  may  lie  across  our  path,  but  it  cannot  effectu- 
ally check  our  progress  in  quest  of  new  objects  of  admira- 
tion. We  gaze  with  intense  delight  on  the  varied  and  ex- 
tended landscape,  the  majestic  course  of  mighty  rivers,  the 
calm  repose  or  resistless  fury  of  the  ocean  and  the  storm. 


IV  PREFACE. 

Leaving  the  natural  world,  we  find  in  the  records  of  his- 
tory the  elements  of  a  still  higher  interest,  and  the  objects 
of  more  permanent  and  commanding  passions,  than  even 
the  proud  sublimities  of  nature  can  produce.  Amid  the 
excitement  of  heroic  fortitude,  unconquerable  energy,  and 
bold  and  perilous  adventure,  accompanied  with  all  the  en- 
chantment of  diversified  and  overwhelming  emotion,  and 
the  endless  variety  of  good  and  ill  which  distinguish  the 
more  tragic  scenes  of  life,  we  rise  above  ourselves  and  be- 
come conscious  of  capabilities  of  feeling  and  action  which 
slept  unexercised  before,  but  which  when  once  awakened 
are  for  ever  wakeful. 

Such  is  the  interest  which  many  of  the  following  narra- 
tives are  adapted  to  excite.  They  embrace  some  of  the 
most  sublime  and  affecting  developments  of  history.  The 
selection  of  them  was  made  not  from  the  extravagant  and 
distorted  caricatures  of  fiction,  but  from  the  authentic  and 
well  attested  records  of  sober  reality.  As  such,  these  nar- 
ratives have  been  to  the  author  an  object  of  intense  and 
lively  interest,  and  it  is  confidently  believed  that  a  discern- 
ing public  will  find  them  worthy  of  its  extended  patronage 
and  general  approbation. 


OS! 

en  ? 


CONTENTS   TO  VOL.  I 


FRENCH  campaign  in  the  Tyrol,             7 

The  siege  of  Alicant,            ....                 .  8 

Overland  journey  to  India,             ...                  .  11 

Escape  from  Pirates,       .....                  •  13 

Singular  deaf  and  dumb  imposture  in  France,                 .  21 

Magnanimity  of  Prince  Leopold,  ...                  .  24 

Extraordinary  escape  from  drowning,        MH»«,J-   •  •         •         •        •  25 

Resurrection  from  the  grave,         .......  30 

The  mercurial  mines  of  Idria, 31 

Attempt  to  take  Arnold,      .        .    ^rtv»v\^,,,,;.(^  -.-• .        .        .  34 

The  ventriloquist  and  the  monks, 39 

Fortitude. of  the  Indian  character,         .         .         .      •.        .         .  40 

Extraordinary  trick  of  a  ventriloquist, 43 

Fraternal  Affection,     .........  45 

Singular  escape  from  death, 48 

A  wife  followed  by  two  husbands  to  the  grave,      ....  50 

Dreadful  sufferings  of  six  deserters,        ......  52 

Singular  escape  during  the  reign  of  terror, 55 

Most  remarkable  suicide,      ........  56 

The  faithful  surgeon,         f'{»nviM>»,-»  &v -w< 61 

A  living  apparition,      .         ..         .         .        .         ,         .         .  65 

Adventure  with  the  Indians,       .....  .      . 

Sufferings  of  a  Marseillian  family  during  the  reign  of  terror,            .  72 

Contest  between  two  Highlanders, 75 

Providential  escapes  of  Thomas  Paine  during  the  French  Revolution,  77 

Murder  in  the  island  of  Guernsey,         .         .                  .         .    '    ".'•'  81 

The  uncalled  avenger,          ........  86 

Sufferings  of  David  Menzies, 90 

Account  of  Henry  Welby,  who  lived  forty-four  years  the  life  of  a 

Hermit, 93 

Singular  case  of  Joan  Perry  and  her  two  sons,       ....  95 

Barbarous  stratagem  of  a  Moorish  Prince, 106 

Assassination  of  Henry  IV. 108 

Assassination  of  Albert  of  Austria,        ......  116 

The  Cornish  murder,             120 

Singular  warfare  of  the  American  Indians,     .....  123 

Simeon  Stylites,  the  fanatic, 127 

The  admirable  Crichton, 132 

111  fated  love 139 

Melancholy  fate  of  ten  seamen,    .......  141 

Love  in  the  wilds, 144 

1* 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Remarkable  parricide,           ........  147 

Wonderful  escape  from  the  Bastile, 149 

Remarkable  escape  and  sufferings  of  Capt.  Wilson                  .         .  160 

Providential  escape  of  a  Dutchman,       .         .         .         .         .         .  169 

Czerny  Georges,           ......     T  V"*              •  170 

The  outlaw  of  Norfolk  Island, 172 

Story  of  a  Hunter, 175 

Feminine  heroism, 180 

The  American  Duellists, 184 

Dangerous  aerial  voyage,       ........  187 

Marion,  the  republican  general, 189 

Elijah  P.  Goodrich, 192 

African  barbarity,        .,         .         .        .              ".^  '"f?  ;t '  r VV"" .  -v  202 

Execution  of  an  innocent  man,      .......  2-04 

The  Greek  martyr, •*  •  •  !4  -  •  it'..  206 

The  parricide  punished, 207 

Remarkable  case  of  John  Jennings, 211 

Torture  of  a  girl  at  Liege, 215 

Melancholy  catastrophe  at  a  masquerade,      .        ','""^  •»        .        .  216 

The  female  husband,        •    .     • ''.''•'•  217 

Pressing  to  death, .  221 

True  heroism,  or  the  Physician  of  Marseilles,          ....  223 

Ingratitude  towards  a  negro  slave,         ......  225 

Attempt  to  escape  from  the  prison  at  Lyons,       '"•» •'"  -'^- :' •        .  227 

Magnanimous  heroism  of  a  Dutch  planter,     .     rrt;-.' s  :f -'•.,,;       ••„_  230 

Running  a  Muck, ~»-'~  231 

The  assassin  of  Cologne,       ........  234 

Michael  Howe,  the  bush  ranger, 236 

The  solitary  sovereign, 237 

Spanish  fidelity,    .         .         .         .     '  v  :    '&       ....  240 

Virtue  rewarded, 241 

Caution  to  travellers  carrying  money  on  a  journey,         »*"• -"'"•"••  '•  i~  243 

Combats  with  wild  beasts,              .         .         .         .        .••'"•;•  246 

Inhuman  prosecution,       • "  .    '     .        .         .         .         .       .'v  :  -~*  248 

Extraordinary  sleep  walker,        "  .  '•-*  .        ...     '•  »'  *•  .  259 

Voluntary  starvation,     .         .    •     »    ;    .        .        .        .       '•*"    -'V  261 

The  force  of  conscience        -•1:'^:;~  .^        f       .f        f       v    '''•  '  262 


itf 


FRENCH    CAMPAIGN   IN   THB   TYROL. 

See  page  7,  TO!.  I. 


THE  MUSEUM. 


FRENCH  CAMPAIGN  IN  THE  TYROL. 

THE  bravery  and  patriotism  of  the  Tyrolese,  have  ever 
been  proverbial ;  and  never  did  they  display  these  distin- 
guishing qualities  more  than  during  the  invasion  of  Austria 
in  1809,  by  Bonaparte.  In  the  month  of  August  of  that 
year,  Lefebre  with  a  large  army  entered  the  Tyrol,  when 
the  following  striking  scene  took  place.  It  is  related  by  a 
Saxon  Major  who  escaped  the  destruction  which  over- 
whelmed so  many  of  his  comrades. 

"  We  had  penetrated  to  Inspruck  without  great  resist- 
ance ;  and  although  much  was  every  where  talked  of  about 
the  Tyrolese,  stationed  on  and  round  the  Brenner,  yet  we 
gave  little  credit  to  it,  thinking  the  rebels  had  been  dis- 
persed by  a  short  cannonade :  and  we  were  already  con- 
sidering ourselves  as  conquerors.  Our  entrance  into  the 
passes  of  the  Brenner  was  only  opposed  by  a  small  corps, 
which  continued  falling  back,  after  a  smart  resistance. 
Among  others,  I  perceived  a  man,  full  80  years  old,  posted 
against  the  side  of  a  rock,  and  sending  death  amongst  our 
ranks  with  every  shot.  Upon  the  Bavarians  descending 
from  behind  to  make  him  prisoner,  he  shouted  aloud,  hurrah ! 
killed  the  first,  seized  the  second  by  the  collar,  and  with  the 
ejaculation,  in  the  name  of  God !  precipitated  himself  with 
him  into  the  abyss  below. 

"  Marching  onwards,  we  heard  resound  from  the  summit 
of  a  high  rock : « Stephen !  sJiall  I  chop  it  of  yet  ?'  to  which 
a  loud  '  No,'  replied  from  the  opposite  side.  This  was  re- 
ported to  the  Duke  of  Dantzic,  who,  notwithstanding,  or- 
dered us  to  advance  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  prudently 
withdrew  from  the  centre  to  the  rear.  The  van  consisting 
of  4000  Bavarians,  had  just  clambered  up  a  deep  ravine, 
when  we  again  heard  halloo'd  over  our  heads  :  In  the  name 
of  the  most  Iwly  Trinity !  Our  terror  was  completed  by 
the  reply  that  immediately  followed  : — In  the  name  of  the 


8  THE    MUSEUM. 

most  holy  Trinity  !  Cut  all  loose  above  !  Ere  a  minute 
had  elapsed  were  thousands  of  my  comrades  in  arms 
crushed,  buried,  and  overwhelmed,  by  an  incredible  heap  of 
broken  rocks,  stones  and  trees,  hurled  down  upon  us  from 
the  top  of  the  mountains.  All  of  us  were  petrified.  Every 
one  fled  as  he  could  ;  but  at  that  moment  a  shower  of 
balls  from  the  Tyrolese,  who  now  rushed  from  the  sur- 
rounding mountains,  in  immense  numbers,  and  among 
them  boys  and  girls  of  ten  and  twelve  years  of  age,  killed 
or  wounded  a  great  many  of  us.  It  was  not  till  we  had 
left  these  fatal  mountains  six  leagues  behind  us,  that  we 
were  re-assembled  by  the  duke,  and  formed  into  six  co- 
lumns. Soon  after  appeared  the  Tyrolese,  headed  by 
Hofer,  the  innkeeper.  After  a  short  address  from  their 
chief,  they  gave  a  general  fire,  flung  their  rifles  aside,  and 
rushed  upon  our  bayonets  with  only  tljeir  clenched  fists. 
Nothing  could  withstand  their  impetuosity.  They  darted 
at  our  feet,  pushed  us  down,  pulled  us  down,  strangled  us, 
wrenched  the  arms  from  our  hands  ;  and,  like  enraged 
lions,  killed  all  —  French,  Bavarians,  and  Saxons,  that  did 
not  cry  for  quarter  !  By  doing  so,  I,  with  300  men,  was 
spared,  and  set  at  liberty. 

"When  all  lay  dead  around,  and  the  victory  was  com- 
pleted, the  Tyrolese,  as  if  moved  by  one  simultaneous  im- 
pulse, fell  upon  their  knees,  and  poured  forth  the  thanks 
of  their  hearts  to  Heaven,  in  the  open  air  —  a  scene  so 
awful,  so  solemn,  that  it  will  never  fade  from  my  remem- 
brance. I  could  not  but  join  in  their  devotion,  and  never 
in  my  life,  I  suppose,  did  I  pray  more  fervently." 


THE    SIEGE    OF    ALICANT. 

IN  the  year  1709,  when  the  English  were  in  Spain,  Ali- 
cant,  a  place  of  great  importance  to  our  ally,  King  Charles, 
was  besieged  by  an  army  of  12,000  men.  This  city  and 
castle  had  been  taken  by  the  signal  valor  of  the  British 
seamen.  The  siege  of  it  afterwards,  when  the  British  de- 
fended it,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  actions  in  this 


THE     MUSEUM . 


Alicant  is  a  city  and  port,  commanded  by  a  strong  castle, 
standing  on  a  rock  at  a  small  distance  from  the  sea,  and 
about  sixty  eight  miles  south  from  the  capital  of  Valencia. 
There  was  in  it  a  good  garrison,  under  the  command  of 
major  general  Richards,  which  made  an  obstinate  defence 
against  a  very  numerous  army  of  the  enemy,  with  a  very 
large  train  of  heavy  artillery,  excellently  supplied  with  am- 
munition. At  last,  the  city  being  absolutely  untenable,  the 
garrison  resolved  to  retire  into  the  castle,  which  had  hi- 
therto been  esteemed  impregnable.  They  sunk  three  cis- 
terns in  the  solid  rock,  and  then,  with  incredible  labor, 
filled  them  with  water.  The  troops  that  retired  into  it 
were  Sir  Charles  Hotham's  regiment,  and  that  of  Colonel 
Sibourg,  generally  called  the  French  regiment,  because  it 
was  composed  of  refugees.  After  some  progress  made  in 
this  second  siege,  the  French  saw  that  it  was  impossible 
to  do  any  thing  in  the  usual  way,  and  therefore,  contrary 
to  all  expectation,  resolved  upon  a  desperate  measure, 
that  of  mining  through  the  solid  rock,  in  order  to  blow  up 
the  castle  and  its  garrison  into  the  air  together.  At  first 
major  general  Richards,  and  all  the  officers  in  the  place, 
looked  upon  the  enemy's  scheme  as  a  thing  impossible  to 
accomplish,  and  were  secretly  well  pleased  with  their  un- 
dertaking, in  hopes  it  would  give  time  for  our  fleet  to  come 
to  their  relief;  yet  this  did  not  hinder  them  from  doing  all 
that  lay  in  their  power  to  incommode  the  workmen,  and 
at  last  to  countermine  them. 

The  besiegers  wrought  so  incessantly,  and  brought  such 
numbers  of  peasants  to  assist  them  in  their  labors,  that,  in 
about  twelve  weeks'  time  they  finished  the  works,  and 
charged  them  with  1500  barrels  of  powder,  and  other 
materials  of  destruction.  They  summoned  the  castle  to 
surrender  March  2d,  offering  a  safe  and  honorable  convoy 
to  Barcelona,  with  bag  and  baggage  for  eveiy  person  in  it, 
if  they  submitted  within  three  days,  and  prevented  the  ruin 
of  the  castle  ;  but  threatened  otherwise  no  mercy  should 
be  shown  if  any  accidentally  escaped  the  blow.  To  show 
the  reality  of  their  design  they  desired  the  garrison  might 
depute  three  or  more  engineers,  with  other  gentlemen  of 
competent  skill,  to  view  their  works,  and  make  a  faithful 
report  of  what  they  saw.  Accordingly  two  field  officers 


10  THE     MUSEUM. 

went  to  the  mine,  and  were  allowed  the  liberty  of  making 
what  scrutiny  they  pleased.  On  their  return,  they  told  the 
governor,  that  if  their  judgment  failed  them  not,  the  explo- 
sion would  carry  up  the  whole  castle  to  the  easternmost 
battery,  unless  it  took  vent  in  their  own  countermine  or 
vein  ;  but,  at  least,  they  conceived  it  would  carry  away  the 
sea  battery,  the  lodging  rooms  in  the  castle  close,  some  of 
the  chambers  cut  for  soldier's  barracks,  and  they  very 
much  feared  it  might  affect  the  great  cistern. 

A  grand  council  of  war  was  called,  the  French  message 
was  delivered,  and  the  engineers  made  their  report ;  the 
besieged  acknowledged  their  want  of  water,  but  believing 
the  fleet  might  be  sensible  of  their  distress,  and  conse- 
quently would  undertake  their  relief,  their  unanimous  re- 
solution was,  to  commit  themselves  to  the  providence  of 
God,  and  whatever  fate  attended  them,  to  stand  the  spring- 
ing of  the  mine.  The  French  general,  and  Spanish  officers, 
expressed  the  utmost  concern  at  this  answer,  and  the 
second  night  of  the  three  allowed,  sent  to  divert  them  from 
what  they  called  inexcusable  obstinacy,  offering  the  same 
honorable  articles  as  before,  even  upon  that  late  compli- 
ance, but  they  were  still  rejected  by  the  besieged.  The 
fatal  third  night  approaching,  and  no  fleet  seen,  the  French 
sent  their  last  summons,  and  withal  an  assurance  that  their 
mine  was  primed,  and  should  be  sprung  by  six  the  next 
morning.  The  besieged  persisted  in  their  adherence  to  the 
resolution  of  their  first  council,  and  the  French  met  their 
usual  answer  again :  therefore,  as  a  prologue  of  their  in- 
tended tragedy,  they  ordered  all  the  inhabitants  of  that 
quarter  to  withdraw  from  their  houses  before  five  o'clock 
the  ensuing  morning.  The  besieged,  in  the  mean  time, 
kept  a  general  guard.  The  major  general,  colonel  Sibourg, 
and  lieutenant  colonel  Thornicroft,  of  Sir  Charles  Hotham's 
regiment,  sat  together  in  the  governor's  room  ;  other 
officers  cantoned  themselves  in  different  places,  to  pass 
the  melancholy  night. 

At  length,  day  appearing,  the  governor  was  informed 
that  the  inhabitants  were  flying  in  crowds  to  the  western- 
most part  of  the  town  ;  the  governor,  attended  by  the 
above  officers,  and  five  or  six  others,  went  to  the  west 
battery.  After  he  had  remained  there  about  a  quarter  of 


THE    SIEGE    OP    ALICANT. 
See  page  II,  vol.  I. 


THE     MUSEUM.  1 

an  hour,  lieutenant  colonel  Thornicroft  desired  him  to  re- 
move, as  he  was  unable  to  do  any  service ;  he  and  colonel 
Sibourg  answered  that  no  danger  was  to  be  apprehended 
there,  more  than  in  any  other  place,  and  they  would  wait 
the  event.  The  lieutenant  colonel,  with  other  officers, 
imitated  their  example.  When  the  hour  of  five  was  con- 
siderably past,  the  corporal's  guard,  observing  some  smoke 
from  the  lighted  matches,  cried  out  that  the  train  was 
fired.  The  governor  and  field  officers  were  then  urged  to 
retreat,  but  still  refused. 

The  mine  at  last  blew  up ;  the  rock  opened  and  shut ; 
the  whole  mountain  felt  the  convulsion  ;  the  governor  and 
field  officers,  with  their  company,  ten  guns,  and  two 
mortars,  were  buried  in  the  abyss  ;  the  walls  of  the  castle 
shook,  part  of  the  great  cistern  fell,  another  cistern  almost 
closed,  and  the  rock  shut  a  man  almost  up  to  his  neck  in 
its  cliff,  who  lived  many  hours  in  that  afflicting  posture. 
About  thirty-six  sentinels  and  women  were  swallowed  up 
in  different  quarters,  whose  dying  groans  were  heard,  even 
after  the  fourth  mournful  day.  Many  houses  of  the  town 
were  overwhelmed  in  the  ruins,  and  the  castle  suffered 
much  ;  but  that  it  wears  any  form  at  all,  was  owing  to  the 
vent  which  the  explosion  forced  through  the  veins  of  the 
rock,  and  the  countermine.  After  the  loss  of  the  chief  offi- 
cers, the  government  fell  to  lieutenant  colonel  D'Albon,  of 
Sibourg's  regiment,  who  with  a  detachment  from  the  gar- 
rison, made  a  desperate  sally,  to  show  how  little  he  was 
moved  at  their  thunder.  The  bombs  from  the  castle 
played  on  the  town  more  violently,  and  the  shot  galled 
every  corner  of  the  streets  ;  these  marks  of  their  resent- 
ment they  continued  till  the  arrival  of  our  fleet,  which  they 
nad  expected  so  long,  and  which  giving  them  relief,  com- 
pelled the  French  to  raise  the  siege. 


OVERLAND  JOURNEY  TO  INDIA. 

MR.  BARTON,  an  English  gentleman,  had  acquired  a 
aiandsome  fortune  in  the  East  Indies,  with  which  he  re- 
turned to  England,  settled  at  some  distance  from  London 


12  THE    MUSEUM. 

in  the  character  of  a  country  gentleman,  and  served  the 
office  of  high  sheriff  for  the  county  in  which  he  lived. 
Being  necessitated  however  to  return  to  India  to  settle 
some  affairs,  he  had  the  courage  to  fit,  out  a  small  Folk- 
stone  cutter,  in  which  he  actually  set  sail  from  England  for 
the  East  Indies ;  but,  before  he  had  been  many  days  at  sea, 
she  was  (luckily  perhaps  for  himself  and  his  little  crew) 
taken  by  a  French  privateer  and  carried  into  Vigo.  From 
hence  he  got  a  passage  to  Leghorn,  taking  his  son  with 
him,  who  had  also  embarked  in  the  same  dangerous  en- 
terprise for  the  East  Indies.  At  Leghorn  they  took  ship 
again,  and  got  safe  to  Scanderoon.  Here  he  was  so  im- 
patient to  get  forward  on  his  journey,  that  he  would  not 
wait  for  the  caravan,  but  set  out  for  Aleppo,  attended  only 
by  his  son,  a  country  servant,  and  a  few  camels.  His  spirit 
was  too  active  to  endure  the  slow  march  of  these  animals ; 
he  therefore  frequently  made  excursions  on  foot  before 
them,  but  one  day,  while  alone,  he  was  attacked  by  a  few 
Arabs,  who  robbed  him  of  every  thing  he  had  about  him. 
He  however  arrived  at  Aleppo  without  any  other  acci- 
dent. Here  he  was  in  the  same  hurry  for  proceeding  on 
his  journey,  nor  would  he  wait  two  or  three  weeks  for  the 
setting  out  of  a  large  caravan  for  Bagdad  and  Bassora. 

He  accordingly  began  this  second  hazardous  expedition 
with  only  two  or  three  camels,  and  the  same  country  ser- 
vant, leaving  his  son  behind  at  Aleppo,  with  orders  to  fol- 
low him  by  the  first  convenient  opportunity.  For  a  few 
days  he  and  his  man  went  on  uninterrupted  over  the 
desert.  At  length  five  or  six  hundred  Arabs  discovered 
them  ;  but,  upon  their  coming  nigh,  Mr.  Barton  drew  out 
a  brace  of  pistols  which  he  carried  in  his  belt,  and  pre- 
sented them  at  the  Arabs.  Astonished  at  his  rashness, 
they  made  a  stand,  but  at  the  same  time  ordered  him  to 
lay  down  his  arms.  His  servant  also  persuaded  him  to 
comply,  but  all  in  vain ;  he  still  held  his  cocked  pistols 
towards  the  Arabs,  and  with  a  determined  look,  and  high- 
toned  voice,  declared  he  would  kill  some  of  them,  if  they 
dared  to  approach  any  nearer.  By  degrees  they  sur- 
rounded him,  and,  with  a  blow  on  the  head,  he  was 
brought  to  the  ground,  and  his  pistols  taken  from  him. 
The  Arabs  now  in  their  turn  presented  these  weapons  to 


THE    MUSEUM.  13 

his  breast,  and  told  him  he  deserved  to  be  put  to  death ; 
but  they  satisfied  themselves  with  stripping  him  quite 
naked,  and  leaving  the  servant  a  jacket  and  breeches,  but 
not  a  drop  of  water,  or  morsel  of  provisions  for  either. 

Mr.  Barton,  after  the  enemy  rode  off,  accepted  the 
breeches  which  his  servant  offered  to  him,  and  they  both 
set  off  bare-footed  (their  camels  also  having  been  taken 
from  them)  in  the  track  of  Bagdad.  After  having  passed 
two  days  and  nights  without  meeting  with  any  other  sup- 
port than  the  truffles  of  the  desert,  that  happened  then  to 
be  in  season,  and  which  they  found  in  great  plenty,  they 
fortunately  fell  in  with  another  tribe  of  Arabs,  to  whose 
Sheick  they  told  their  melancholy  tale,  and  implored  his 
assistance.  The  Sheick  was  touched  with  the  relation  of 
their  distress,  and  afforded  them  every  help  in  his  power ; 
his  own  wives  ministered  unto  them,  anointing  their  feet; 
and  brought  them  milk,  with  every  other  necessary.  As 
soon  as  they  were  sufficiently  recovered  to  set  forward, 
the  son  of  the  Sheick  escorted  them  so  far  as  to  put  them 
under  the  protection  of  another  Sheick,  by  whom  they 
were  entertained  in  the  like  hospitable  manner,  and  dis- 
missed with  other  guards  and  passports ;  nor  did  they 
want  friends  as  long  as  their  journey  lasted,  each  tribe 
seeing  them  safely  lodged  with  its  next  neighbor,  until  they 
had  delivered  them  into  the  hands  of  our  countrymen  at 
Bagdad. — Ive's  Journal  of  a  Voyage  to  India. 


-<} 

ESCAPE  FROM  PIRATES. 

THE  morning  broke  hazily  upon  the  Atlantic,  with  a 
fresh  breeze  from  the  eastward,  attended  by  frequent 
squalls  of  light  rain.  The  sea  had  assumed  that  dead, 
lead  color,  which  always  attests  the  absence  of  the  sun  ; 
and  a  dark  curtain  of  clouds,  that  were  slowly  heaving 
up  to  windward,  threatened  an  interval  of  heavier  wea- 

2 


14  THE    MUSEUM. 

ther  before  the  close  of  the  day.  About  a  hundred  miles 
from  that  part  of  the  coast  of  South  America,  situated 
between  the  Brazil  shoals  and  Cape  Frio,  a  large  and 
beautiful  ship  was  dashing  along  under  a  press  of  can- 
vass. She  had  the  wind  abeam,  and  every  thing  that 
the  weather  would  allow  was  packed  on  alow  and  aloft. 
On  her  quarter  deck,  a  group,  consisting  of  the  passen- 
gers and  officers  of  the  ship,  had  collected  to  observe  a 
strange  sail,  which,  since  daylight,  had  been  discovered 
two  or  three  points  forward  of  the  beam. 

"  Give  me  the  glass,"  said  a  stout,  good-looking,  mid- 
dle-aged man,  whose  countenance  betrayed,  or  more  pro- 
perly indicated,  a  fondness  for  glasses,  and  whose  au- 
thoritative tone  at  once  christened  him  skipper.  Taking 
the  proffered  instrument,  he  adjusted  it  at  the  proper 
focus,  and  commenced  studying  the  stranger,  whose  hull, 
by  the  aid  of  the  telescope,  was  but  just  visible,  as  she 
rose  upon  the  crest  of  the  waves. 

"He's  edging  away  for  us,"  muttered  Captain  Bang- 
em  ;  "just  got  a  pull  of  his  weather  braces  ;  a  suspicious 
looking  craft,  too." 

"  A  guineaman,  from  the  coast,  perhaps,"  said  Skysail. 

"  The  fellow  thinks  it's  getting  too  black  to  windward 
for  all  his  duck,"  resumed  the  captain ;  "  he's  reefing  his 
foretop-sail,  and  we  must  follow  suit." 

Passing  the  glass  to  a  sailor  at  his  elbow,  he  took  up 
the  trumpet,  and  looking  at  the  mouth-piece  for  a  mo- 
ment, applied  it  to  his  lips,  and  gave  the  order  to  take  in 
the  studding-sails,  royals,  and  flying-jib.  When  this 
movement  had  been  executed,  Bangem  again  thundered 
forth : 

"  Man  the  top-gallant  clew-lines — clear  away  the  sheets 
— clew  up — man  the  top-sail  reef-tackles  and  buntlines — 
clear  away  the  bowlines — round  in  the  braces — settle 
away  the  halliards — clew  down,  haul  out  the  reef-tackles, 
and  up  the  buntlines — trice  up  the  booms — lay  out,  and 
take  in  the  second  reef !" 

The  ever-ready  seamen  sprang  upon  the  yards,  and 
extending  themselves  along  either  extremity,  caught  up 
and  secured  to  the  spar  the  canvass  contained  between 


THE    MUSEUM.  15 

the  first  and  second  reef-bands.  When  all  three  of  the 
top-sails  had  been  reefed,  the  yards  were  again  mast- 
headed and  trimmed,  the  top-gallant-sails  sheeted  home, 
and  the  Niagara  once  more  freshened  her  speed  through 
the  water. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  stranger  was  fast  coming  down, 
and  so  rapidly  had  he  overhauled  the  Niagara,  that  those 
on  board  of  the  latter  were  able  to  distinguish  her  build 
and  rig,  with  the  naked  eye.  She  was  a  long,  low,  clipper- 
schooner,  with  spars  that  seemed  much  too  taut  and 
square  for  the  little  hull  out  of  which  they  rose.  Cap- 
tain Bangem  had  been  watching  her  for  some  moments, 
with  the  utmost  interest,  when,  turning  to  Skysail,  he 
ordered  him  to  hoist  the  ensign.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  we'll 
see  what  bunting  the  fellow  wears.  Ah,  there  it  goes  ! 
the  stars  and  stripes."  A  rolling  billow  of  smoke  rose 
from  the  bow  of  the  schooner,  and  the  report  of  a  gun 
thundered  along  the  breeze. 

"  Man  the  weather  main-braces — clear  away  the  bow- 
lines— put  the  helm  down — ease  off  the  jib-sheet !" 
shouted  Bangem ;  and,  in  another  moment,  the  Niagara 
was  lying  to  with  the  main-topsail  to  the  mast.  The 
skipper  again  resumed  the  spy-glass ;  but  scarcely  had  he 
raised  it  to  his  eye,  when,  relinquishing  it  to  another,  he 
seized  the  trumpet,  and,  in  a  voice  that  betrayed  unusual 
excitement,  he  sang  out,  "  Haul  aft  the  jib-sheet ! — hard 
up,  hard  up  !" 

"  Hard  up !"  answered  the  man  at  the  wheel,  and  the 
obedient  ship  fell  rapidly  off  before  the  wind. 

"  Lay  aft  the  braces,"  said  Bangem  ;  "  meet  her  now, 
boy." 

"  She's  got  the  lee  helm,"  was  the  immediate  reply. 

"  Steady  as  you  go — steady,  so." 

"  Steady  so,  sir,"  responded  the  steersman. 

The  sullen  report  of  a  gun  told  how  the  stranger  had 
received  this  manoeuvre :  and  when  the  smoke  rolled 
off  to  the  leeward,  the  American  ensign  was  no  longer 
at  his  peak.  Before  the  Niagara  had  been  kept  away, 
she  was  running  along  with  the  wind  abeam  ;  the  stran- 
ger was  on  her  weather-bow,  and  heading  so  as  to  near 


16  THE    MUSEUM. 

her  at  each  moment,  and  eventually  cut  her  off;  but  now, 
the  former  had  assumed  the  same  position,  with  regard 
to  the  wind,  as  the  latter,  and  both  vessels  were  running 
with  the  breeze  sharp  on  the  quarter.  There  were  but 
few  questions  asked  on  board  the  Niagara :  the  unlook- 
ed-for deviation  from  her  proper  course,  and  the  subse- 
quent manoeuvres  of  the  schooner,  at  once  told  the  real 
or  suspected  character  of  the  vessel  in  chase ;  and  the 
passengers  gathered  about  the  taffrail,  regarding  with  a 
fearful  silence  the  little  object  of  their  fears,  that  came 
down,  clambering  and  cutting  the  waves,  like  some  angry 
monster  of  the  deep,  after  its  retreating  prey. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Bangem,  "it  would  be  superfluous 
for  me  to  tell  you  the  character  of  that  vessel ;  you  all 
know  it,  and  you  also  know  what  mercy  to  expect,  if  we 
fall  into  their  hands.  A  stern  chase  is  a  long  chase,  and 
as  the  Niagara  sails  better  with  the  wind  well  aft,  I  have 
given  her  her  fastest  point ;  we  are  now  heading  for  the 
coast  of  South  America,  and  we  must  keep  out  of  his 
clutches  as  long  as  we  can.  If  Providence  does  not 
send  us  deliverance  in  the  mean  time,  why,  it  is  even  bet- 
ter to  perish  on  the  reefs,  than  die  by  the  knives  of  yon 
butchers." 

Another  gun  from  the  pirate  boomed  over  the  water, 
but  the  shot  fell  harmless  astern  of  the  Niagara.  "  Ay, 
blaze  away,  you  vagabond !"  muttered  an  old  veteran, 
who  was  assisting  in  running  out  of  a  stern-port  the  only 
gun  on  board ;  "  every  shot  you  heave  is  four  fathoms  off 
your  log." 

"  If  it  were  eight  hours  later,  we  might  be  able  to 
give  her  the  slip  during  the  night,"  said  Bangem ;  "  but 
if  we  continue  to  move  along  at  this  rate,  we  shall  be 
high  and  dry  on  the  coast  of  Brazil,  before  the  sun  goes 
down." 

Still  the  schooner  kept  overhauling  the  ship,  but  his  ad- 
vantage was  not  now  as  perceptible  as  before :  every 
thing  held  out  the  prospect  of  a  long  chase  ;  but  so  in- 
tently was  the  stranger  bent  on  gaining  her,  that  he  sent 
aloft,  and  set  his  light  top-gallant-sail,  although  the  wind 
was  blowing  a  perfect  gale  ;  and,  shortly  afterwards, 


THE    MUSEUM.  17 

men  were  seen  on  the  top-sail-yard,  turning  out  the  reefs' 
As  soon  as  Bangem  perceived  this,  he  gave  the  order  to 
turn  both  reefs  out  of  the  top-sails,  and  get  the  starboard 
fore-top-mast-studding-sail  ready  for  setting.  In  a  few 
moments,  an  additional  quantity  of  canvass  was  spread 
along  the  booms  of  the  Niagara,  and  the  gallant  vessel 
rushed  like  some  wild  leviathan  through  the  rolling  sea, 
dashing  aside  its  angry  waters,  and  leaving  broad  streaks 
of  boiling  foam  behind. 

"  Give  him  around  shot,  Skysail,"  said  Bangem ;  "  we 
must  try  and  cripple  him,  or  it's  all  day  with  us." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  muttered  the  tar,  as  he  squinted  along 
the  sight,  and  elevated  the  gun  for  a  long  shot :  the  match 
was  applied,  and  away  sped  the  iron. 

"  Well  done,  old  'un  !"  shouted  Skysail,  as  the  splinters 
flew  from  the  bulwarks  of  the  pirate. 

"  Try  it  again,  my  hearty  !"  continued  Bangem,  "  give 
him  a  stand  of  grape  along  with  it,  this  time." 

The  schooner  yawed  and  fired,  but  aga*in  its  shot  fell 
harmless  alongside  of  the  chase. 

"  There  go  his  stu'n'sail  booms,"  said  the  mate,  as  two 
delicate  spars  glided  out,  as  if  by  magic,  from  either  ex- 
tremity of  his  top-sail-yard,  while,  in  another  moment, 
a  sheet  of  light  canvass  arose,  and  was  extended  on 
either  side  of  his  bellying  top-sail.  The  pursuer  had 
gained  considerably  on  the  pursued  during  the  last  half 
hour;  and  Bangem,  who  stood  watching  her  progress 
with  the  eye  of  an  eagle,  now  got  down  from  the  horse 
block,  and  gave  the  order  to  set  the  starboard  lower  and 
all  the  top-gallant-stu'n'sails.  The  seamen  exchanged 
glances  in  amazement,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment ; 
and  the  next  beheld  them  spread  in  different  parts  of  the 
rigging,  making  preparation  to  heap  an  additional  pile  of 
canvass  upon  the  spars  of  the  trembling  ship.  "  Haul 
taut,  rig  out,  and  hoist  away  !" — but  scarcely  had  the 
halliards  been  belayed,  when  snap  went  the  booms  of  the 
top-gallant  yard  and  the  lower  studding-sail.  "  Lower 
away — haul  down  !"  shouted  Bangem  ;  "  make  those  sails 
up  afresh,  point  the  spare  booms,  and  get  them  ready  for 
setting  again." 


18  THE    MUSEUM. 

The  two  vessels  continued  to  fly  rapidly  towards  the 
coast  of  Brazil,  and  the  pirate  still  continued  to  gain  on 
the  chase,  although  he  yawed  and  fired  at  an  interval  of 
every  half  hour.  Had  the  Niagara  hauled  her  wind  on 
either  tack,  she  would  have  soon  become  the  prey  of  the 
schooner,  as  she  sailed  faster  with  the  wind  abeam. 
Bangem  accordingly  thought  it  much  better  to  keep  her 
nearly  before  the  breeze,  as  the  pursuer  would  then  have 
to  deviate. from  his  course,  to  bring  his  guns  to  bear,  and 
consequently,  deaden  at  intervals  his  advance,  as  an  es- 
cape was  now  almost  hopeless.  The  cutlasses  and  fire- 
arms were  got  up  on  the  quarter-deck,  and  every  prepa- 
ration made  by  the  passengers  and  crew  of  the  vessel  for 
a  desperate  defense.  There  were  in  all  about  twenty 
fighting  men  on  board  of  the  ship ;  and,  judging  by  the 
masses  that  blackened  the  schooner's  deck,  she  must  have 
had  five  times  that  number. 

For  two  long  hours  the  chase  was  kept  up,  and  at  the 
expiration  of  that  time,  the  pirate  was  within  about  three 
quarters  of  a  mile.  Bangem  had  drawn  his  men  up,  and 
exhorted  them  to  stand  by  him  like  Americans,  in  the  ap- 
proaching conflict,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  heavy 
crash,  and  the  mizen-top-mast,  top-gallant-mast  and  all, 
went  by  the  board. 

"  Axes  and  knives,  here !"  shouted  he,  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  :  "  cut,  men,  cut ! — stir  yourselves,  my  livelies  ! — 
the  villain  is  coming  down  like  a  race-horse." 

Instantly  the  lanyards  and  stays  were  severed,  or  car- 
ried away,  the  braces  and  bowlines  unrove,  and  the 
wreck  floating  far  astern :  but  the  speed  of  the  Niagara 
was  by  this  accident  considerably  lessened,  and  the 
schooner,  perceiving  her  advantage,  put  down  her  helm, 
and  threw  a  raking  broadside  among  the  rigging  and 
spars  of  the  unfortunate  vessel.  At  this  moment,  the  cry 
of  "  breakers  !"  was  heard  from  the  forecastle,  and  an  ex- 
clamation of  horror  burst  from  every  lip — but  one. 
There  was  death  on  eveiy  hand  ;  and  the  forms  that 
peopled  the  decks  of  the  Niagara,  stood  as  mute  as  sta- 
tues, enveloped  in  the  silent  stupor  of  despair. 

"  Where   away  ?"  asked  Bangem  ;  and  the  cool  self- 


THE    MUSEUM.  19 

possession  of  that  voice  seemed  to  mock  the  dangers  by 
which  they  were  surrounded. 

"  Right  ahead !"  replied  the  look-out, "  and  on  both  bows." 

"  True,"  mused  the  commander,  bending  his  eye  in 
the  given  direction ;  "  you  may  hear  them  roar  above 
the  howling  of  the  wind  and  waves,  even  at  this  dis- 
tance." 

"  Shall  I  bring  her  by  the  wind,  sir  ?"  asked  the  steers- 
man. 

"  No !"  was  the  stern  and  determined  reply ;  and  an- 
other volley  of  iron  crashed  among  the  spars  of  the  Ni- 
agara. So  eagerly  had  the  pirate  pursued  the  chase,  that 
the  danger  ahead  remained  to  him  undiscovered.  The 
day  was  unusually  dark  and  cloudy,  and  the  smoke,  roll- 
ing to  leeward,  perhaps  screened  the  reef  from  his  view. 
However,  he  saw  it  not,  and  now  came  rushing  down 
upon  the  crippled  ship,  confident  of  his  superiority. 

"  Ease  the  helm  down  !"  said  Bangem,  in  a  voice  that 
was  heard  above  every  thing  beside;  "lash  him  there  ! 
and  if  we  perish,  the  blood-hounds  shall  keep  us  company. 
Hard  up,  again !" 

The  obedient  craft  once  more  fell  off  before  the  wind, 
and  rushed  onward  towards  the  breakers,  that  roared 
and  foamed  not  more  than  half  a  mile  in  advance,  drag- 
ging in  her  wake  the  light-built  schooner,  like  some  giant 
spirit  of  death,  urging  an  ignobler  being  to  the  shades  of 
darkness.  A  howl  of  frenzy,  that  broke  from  the  deck 
of  the  corsair,  told  that  they  had,  for  the  first  time,  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  peril  that  awaited  them ;  and 
twenty  dark  forms  sprang  out  upon  her  bowsprit,  armed 
with  axes  and  knives,  to  free  themselves  from  the  hold  of 
the  ship. 

"  Now,  my  lads,  give  it  to  the  blood-hounds  !"  shouted 
Bangem. 

A  volley  was  the  reply,  and  every  soul  without  the 
schooner's  cutwater  perished :  as  many  more  sprang  to 
take  their  places  ;  but  again  the  fire  from  the  Niagara's 
quarter-deck  swept  them  away,  like  chaff  before  the  wind 
of  heaven.  In  the  mean  time,  both  vessels  were  rushing 
madly  towards  the  reef:  they  were  not  a  hundred  yards 


tO  THE    MUSEUM. 

from  the  breakers,  and  both  parties  ceased  hostilities,  to 
gaze  upon  the  foaming  waters  and  iron  rocks,  that,  in 
another  moment,  threatened  to  dash  them  into  eternity. 
Hope  had  left  every  bosom  ;  the  pirates  no  longer  en- 
deavored to  separate  themselves  from  the  Niagara,  but 
stood,  pale  and  trembling,  waiting  with  horror,  to  pay 
the  last  dark  forfeit  of  their  lives.  Both  vessels  were 
now  within  the  influence  of  the  reef;  the  long,  heavy 
rollers,  in  conjunction  with  the  wind,  were  driving  them 
rapidly  upon  the  rocks,  when  the  schooner's  bowsprit, 
shrouds,  bobstays,  and  all,  gave  way  ;  the  liberated  ves- 
sel swung  round  and  struck,  while  the  Niagara  forged  by 
the  ledge,  unscathed  !  The  next  billow  dashed  the  pirate 
higher  upon  the  reef,  where  she  was  hid  from  view  by 
the  roaring  and  foaming  seas,  that  broke  over  her  de- 
voted hull.  The  crash  of  her  falling  spars  was  then 
heard,  and  the  shrieks  and  wails  of  the  drowning  wretch- 
es rose,  for  one  moment,  above  the  thunder  of  the  surf ; 
but  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  they  were  lost  forever. 
When  the  Niagara  passed  the  cluster  of  rocks  upon 
which  the  schooner  went  to  pieces,  she  was  hurled  along 
the  very  centre  of  the  principal  reef,  where  the  eddies 
and  currents  rendered  her  totally  unmanageable.  She 
no  longer  obeyed  the  helm,  but  drifted  along,  a  disabled 
thing,  at  the  sport  of  the  wind  and  waves,  the  sea  roar- 
ing the  while  like  thunder  around  her,  and  the  spray 
breaking  in  dense  masses  over  her. 

There  were  ten  minutes  of  appalling  anxiety,  during 
which  every  one  expected  to  feel  her  strike  against  the 
rocks  ;  yet,  for  ten  minutes  more,  she  continued  to  drift 
through  them  in  safety.  The  centre  and  principal  ledge 
was  passed,  and  she  began  to  fall  off  before  the  wind. 
A  beam  of  hope  lighted  up  the  countenance  of  Bangem. 
He  sprang  upon  the  bulwarks,  and  cast  one  quick,  search- 
ing glance,  at  the  sea  around  him. 

"  Starboard  a  little  !"  cried  he. 

"  Starboard  a  little,"  answered  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

"  Steady  so,  meet  her." 

"  Meet  her  it  is,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

For  five  minutes  more  she  flew  through  the  intricacies 
of  the  reef,  without  deviation. 


THE    MUSEUM.  21 

"  Port !  port ! — give  her  the  port  helm,  quick  !"  shout- 
ed Bangem. 

"  She's  got  it  all,  sir  !"  was  the  response ;  and  the  gal- 
lant ship  glided  by  the  last  rock  that  threatened  her  de- 
struction, and  passed  safely  into  the  still  water,  between 
the  reef  and  the  main. 


SINGULAR  DEAF  AND  DUMB  IMPOSTOR  IN  FRANCE. 

''J.j  |  Ijfcj^fVrVii'., :,  :...  .. 

IT  might  almost  be  admitted  as  a  proverb,  that  what- 
ever else  a  man  might  have  assumed  as  his  character,  that 
of  a  person  born  deaf  and  dumb  could  never  have  been 
worth  his  while  to  have  persevered  in ;  but  Paris  has  lately 
seen  an  instance  of  this  imposture,  and  as  the  history  may 
be  useful,  as  it  certainly  is  curious,  we  shall  give  it  at  some 
length.  L'Abbe  Sicard  had  received  so  many  letters  from 
different  parts  of  France  in  behalf  of  a  young  man  who  de- 
scribed himself  as  one  of  his  pupils,  and  who  professed  to 
be  travelling  from  province  to  province,  in  search  of  his 
father,  and  to  ascertain  his  family,  that  he  thought  proper 
to  insert  in  the  public  papers  a  note  denying  any  knowl- 
edge of  such  an  individual,  and  cautioning  the  public  against 
deception.  The  party  was  accordingly  seized  and  im- 
prisoned at  La  Rochelle.  This  produced  a  letter  from 
M.  Victor  Serve,  officer  of  the  66th  regiment,  da.ted  Ro- 
chelle. He  says  he  had  seen  this  young  man,  who  was 
about  twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years  of  age  :  his  figure 
was  mild  and  expressive,  his  address  noble  and  modest,  his 
look  downcast,  his  cheeks  not  ruddy,  all  his  features,  as 
all  his  attitudes,  witnessing  his  misfortune.  He  wept,  and 
deeply  affected  all  beholders,  who  amounted  to  upwards 
of  one  hundred.  He  won  every  heart.  His  father  em- 
igrated in  1792,  his  mother  was  legally  assassinated  the 
same  year :  a  German  named  Vere  took  him  and  taught 
him  the  French  language  as  well  as  he  could.  He  died 


22  THE    MUSEUM. 

in  1802.  Such  was  his  story.  He  called  himself  Victor 
de  Travanait.  The  writer  then  very  solemnly  attests  his 
conviction  that  this  youth  was  born  deaf  and  dumb.  This 
letter  being  signed  by  the  mayor,  notary,  &c.,  as  authentic, 
the  matter  was  submitted  to  the  Counsellor  of  State,  and 
after  some  delay,  the  young  man  was  ordered  up  to  Paris, 
to  be  examined  at  the  Institution  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb. 
As  he  could  write,  the  Abbe  naturally  endeavored,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  judge  by  his  written  answers  to  questions, 
whether  he  really  was  what  he  pretended  to  be.  His 
manner  of  spelling  words  convinced  the  Abbe  at  once  that 
he  was  an  impostor ;  but  in  spite  of  all  his  attempts  to 
render  this  palpable,  the  youth  eluded  his  design,  and  he 
obtained  no  decisive  proofs  in  the  first  examination.  A 
second  trial  was  not  attended  with  greater  conviction  ;  the 
young  man  conducted  himself  so  correctly  as  perfectly  to 
counteract  suspicion.  Several  days  afterwards  the  youth 
was  put  to  a  third  trial ;  at  which  the  Abbe  tried  him  by 
the  easy  syllables  which  the  deaf  and  dumb  are  taught  first 
to  pronounce,  such  as  pa.  Victor  pronounced  the  vowel 
A,  but  not  the  consonant.  He  also  acknowledged,  that  he 
had  been  taught  by  signs ;  but  he  did  not  understand  a 
single  sign  which  was  made  to  him.  Convinced  now  that 
he  was  not  really  deaf  .and  dumb,  the  Abbe  threatened  to 
confront  him  with  those  persons  by  whom  he  said  he  had 
been  taught,  and  other  friends  whom  he  had  mentioned : 
exposing  to  him  at  the  same  time  the  numerous  contra- 
dictions of  which  he  had  been  guilty.  He  denied  all,  and 
kept  his  countenance,  but  desired  the  examination  might 
close.  The  next  morning,  Victor,  by  writing,  desired  the 
examination  might  not  be  so  public  ;  the  company,  accord- 
ingly, being  selected.  Victor  drew  from  his  pocket  a  paper 
which  he  read  with  a  loud  and  intelligible  voice.  "  These 
are  the  first  words  which  have  issued  from  my  mouth 
during  four  years."  He  said  that  he  would  have  preferred 
death  to  this  confession;  that  M.  Sicard  was  chosen  to 
obtain  the  truth ;  that  he  had  been  vanquished ;  that  no 
other  person  should  have  vanquished  him.  "In  many 
cities  I  have  been  subjected  to  different  cruel  experiments ; 
but  never  has  the  smallest  symptom  of  surprise  been  seen 
in  my  countenance.  At  La  Rochelle  the  warder  was  di- 


THE    MUSEUM.  23 

reeled  to  sleep  with  me :  but  even  my  dreams  were  never 
expressed  by  any  thing  more  than  guttural  sounds.  Seve- 
ral times  have  I  been  purposely  awakened  out  of  a  sound 
sleep  ;  my  alarm  was,  however,  marked  by  nothing  more 
than  a  plaintive  croaking.  The  hundred  prisoners  who 
were  with  me  did  all  which  had  been  ordered  them,  in 
order  to  surprise  me.  In  Switzerland,  a  young,  rich,  and 
beautiful  woman,  offered  to  marry  me  if  I  would  speak. 
I  resisted  every  thing.  Often  have  I  had  the  intention 
of  roaming  into  some  wood,  and  living  like  a  beast.  At 
first  I  did  so :  1  passed  a  whole  month  living  on  roots, 
potatoes,  and  wild  fruits,  without  tasting  bread.  I  am  not 
Victor  Travanait,  but  Victor  Foy,  of  Lauzarache,  six 
leagues  from  Paris."  It  will  readily  be  supposed  that  this 
declaration,  from  a  mouth  which  had  been  four  years 
closed,  produced  a  great  sensation  among  the  auditory. 
It  produced  no  less  sensation  among  the  public ;  and  on 
February  24,  1807,  the  meeting  of  the  Institution  was  full 
of  persons  curious  to  see  and  hear  what  would  pass.  The 
Abbe  Sicard  was  obliged  to  give  a  second  sitting,  after  the 
first  was  over ;  and  to  announce  that  he  would  give  a  third, 
and  a  fourth,  if  necessary,  in  order  that  no  individual  might 
depart  without  full  conviction.  Silence  was  obtained  with 
great  difficulty  in  such  an  immense  crowd.  After  which, 
M.  Sicard  caused  several  of  his  deaf  and  dumb  pupils  to 
speak.  Victor  spoke  with  much  timidity  and  difficulty, 
having  so  long  lost  the  use  of  speech ;  he  read  with  pain 
and  great  hesitation,  in  a  book  which  was  procured  for  the 
purpose.  He  broke  oft",  observing,  that  his  feelings  were 
too  strong  to  suffer  him  to  proceed.  Then,  the  Abbe 
stating  that  the  Prefect  of  the  Police  had  given  one  of  his 
shirts  to  the  young  man,  who  was  absolutely  naked,  and 
other  clothing  also,  he  being  in  great  distress,  a  collection 
was  made  in  his  favor.  This  had  a  great  effect  upon  him. 
Victor  observed  to  the  Abbe  that  he  had  so  entirely  ac- 
customed himself  to  the  illusions  of  his  part,  that  he  had 
unlearned  his  hearing.  He  described  as  one  of  the  most 
powerful  proofs  to  which  his  constancy  had  been  put,  an 
experiment  practised  on  him  in  Switzerland.  "  I  was  in  a 
room  under  interrogation,"  said  he,  "  where  had  been  pre- 
viously suspended,  unknown  to  me,  immediately  behind 


THE    MUSEUM. 


me,  a  great  vase  full  of  copper  money ;  suddenly  the  cord 
was  cut,  and  the  whole  came  tumbling  down  with  a  pro- 
digious clatter.  Yet  not  the  slightest  indication  of  any 
emotion  was  discoverable  in  my  countenance."  Such  was 
the  termination  of  a  deception  which  had  imposed  on  many 
parts  of  Germany,  Switzerland,  Italy,  Spain,  and  France  ! 


MAGNANIMITY    OF    PRINCE    LEOPOLD,    YOUNGEST    SON    OF 
CHARLES,    DUKE    OF    BRUNSWICK. 

THE  Leyden  Gazette  for  May,  1785,  contained  the  fol- 
lowing melancholy  account  of  the  death  of  this  excellent 
young  man,  who  fell  a  sacrifice  to  his  magnanimous  and 
humane  efforts,  to  save  the  lives  of  his  fellow  creatures : 

"  We  have  within  these  few  days  experienced  the  great- 
est calamities,  by  the  overflowing  of  the  Oder,  which  burst 
its  banks  in  several  places,  and  carried  away  houses, 
bridges,  and  every  thing  that  opposed  its  course.  Numbers 
of  people  lost  their  lives  in  this  rapid  inundation  ;  but  of 
all  the  accidents  arising  from  it,  none  was  so  generally 
lamented  as  the  death  of  the  good  prince  Leopold  of 
Brunswick.  This  amiable  personage  standing  at  the  side 
of  the  river,  a  woman  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  beseeching 
him  to  give  orders  for  some  persons  to  go  to  the  rescue  of 
her  children,  whom,  bewildered  by  the  sudden  danger,  she 
had  left  behind  her  in  the  house  :  some  soldiers  who  were 
also  in  the  same  place  were  crying  for  help.  The  prince 
endeavored  to  procure  a  flat-bottomed  boat,  but  no  one 
could  be  found  to  venture  across  the  river,  even  though 
the  prince  offered  large  sums  of  money,  and  promised  to 
share  the  danger.  At  last,  moved  by  the  cries  of  the  un- 
fortunate inhabitants  of  the  suburbs,  and  led  by  the  senti- 
ments of  his  own  benevolent  heart,  he  took  the  resolution 
of  going  to  their  assistance  himself.  Those  who  were 
about  him  endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  this  hazardous 
enterprise,  but  touched  to  the  soul  by  the  distress  of  the 
miserable  people,  he  replied  in  the  following  words: 
"  What  am  I  more  than  either  you  or  they  ?  I  am  a  man 
like  yourselves,  and  nothing  ought  to  be  attended  to  here, 


MAGNANIMITY    OF    PRINCE    LEOPOLD,    YOUNGEST   BON    OF 

CHAULES,  DUKE    OF    BRUNSWICK. 

SM  pa{>  25,  Tot  !. 


THE    MUSEUM.  25 

but  the  voice  of  humanity."  Unshaken  therefore  in  his 
resolution,  he  immediately  embarked  with  three  watermen 
in  a  small  boat,  and  crossed  the  river ;  the  boat  did  not 
want  three  lengths  of  the  bank,  when  it  struck  against  a 
tree,  and  in  an  instant  they  all  together,  with  the  boat,  dis- 
appeared. A  few  minutes  after,  the  prince  rose  again, 
and  supported  himself  a  short  time  by  taking  hold  of  a  tree, 
but  the  violence  of  the  current  soon  bore  him  down,  and 
he  never  appeared  more.  The  boatmen,  more  fortunate, 
were  every  one  saved,  and  the  prince  alone  became  the 
victim  of  his  own  humanity.  The  whole  city  was  in  afflic- 
tion for  the  loss  of  this  truly  amiable  prince,  whose  humi- 
lity, gentleness  of  manners,  and  compassionate  disposition, 
endeared  him  to  all  ranks.  He  lived,  indeed,  as  he  died, 
in  the  highest  exercise  of  humanity.  Had  not  the  current 
been  so  rapid,  he  would,  without  doubt,  have  been  saved, 
as  he  was  a  remarkably  good  swimmer. 


EXTRAORDINARY  ESCAPE    FROM   DROWNING    IN    THE  RAPIDS 
OF    THE    RIVER    ST.    LAWRENCE. 

ON  the  22d  of  April,  1810,  we  set  sail  in  a  large  schooner 
from  Fort  George,  or  Niagara  town,  and  in  two  days  cross 
ed  Lake  Ontario,  to  Kingston,  at  the  head  of  the  river  St. 
Lawrence,  distant  from  Niagara,  about  208  miles.  Here 
we  hired  an  American  barge  (a  large  flat-bottomed  boat) 
to  carry  us  to  Montreal  a  further  distance  of  200  miles ; 
then  set  out  from  Kingston  on  the  28th  of  April,  and  arrived 
the  same  evening  at  Ogdensburgh,  a  distance  of  75  miles. 
The  following  evening  we  arrived  at  Cornwall,  and  the  suc- 
ceeding night  at  Ponte  du  Hac,  on  Lake  St.  Francis.  Here 
our  bargemen  obtained  our  permission  to  return  up  the 
river ;  and  we  embarked  JQ  another  barge,  deeply  laden 
with  potashes,  passengers,  and  luggage.  Above  Mon- 
treal, for  nearly  100  miles,  the  river  St.  Lawrence  is  in- 
terrupted in  its  course  by  rapids,  which  are  occasioned  by 
the  river  being  confined  in  comparatively  narrow,  shallow, 
and  rocky  channels ;  through  them  it  rusnes  with  great 
force  and  noise,  and  is  agitated  like  the  ocean  in  a  storm. 

3 


26  THE     MUSEUM. 

Many  people  prefer  these  rapids,  for  grandeur  of  appear- 
ance, to  the  Falls  of  the  Niagara.  They  are  from  half  a 
mile  to  nine  miles  long  each,  and  require  regular  pilots. 
On  the  30th  of  April,  we  arrived  at  the  village  of  the 
Cedars,  immediately  below  which  are  three  sets  of  danger- 
ous rapids,  (the  Cedars,  the  Split-rock,  and  the  Cascades,) 
distant  from  each  other  about  one  mile.  On  the  morning 
of  the  1st  of  May  we  set  out  from  the  Cedars,  the  barge 
very  deep,  and  very  leaky.  The  captain,  a  daring  rash 
man,  refused  to  take  a  pilot.  After  we  passed  the  Cedar 
rapid,  not  without  danger,  the  captain  called  for  some  rum, 
swearing  at  the  same  time,  that  God  Almighty  could  not 
steer  the  barge  better  than  he  did !  Soon  after  this  we 
entered  the  Split-rock-rapids  by  a  wrong  channel,  and 
found  ourselves  advancing  rapidly  towards  a  dreadful 
watery  precipice,  down  which  we  went.  The  barge 
slightly  grazed  her  bottom  against  the  rock,  and  the  fall 
was  so  great  as  nearly  to  take  away  the  breath.  We 
here  took  in  a  great  deal  of  water,  which  was  mostly 
baled  out  again  before  we  were  hurried  on  to  what  the 
Canadians  call  the  "grand  bouillon,"  or  great  boiling.  In 
approaching  this  place  the  captain  let  go  the  helm,  say- 
ing, "  By  God  !  here  we  fill !"  The  barge  was  almost  im- 
mediately overwhelmed  in  the  midst  of  immense  foaming 
breakers,  which  rushed  over  the  bows,  carrying  away 
planks,  oars,  &c.  About  half  a  minute  elapsed  between 
the  filling  and  going  down  of  the  barge,  during  which  I 
had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  strip  off  rny  three  coats, 
and  was  loosening  my  suspenders,  when  the  barge  sunk, 
and  I  found  myself  floating  in  the  midst  of  people,  bag- 
gage, &c.  Each  man  caught  hold  of  something ;  one  of 
the  crew  caught  hold  of  me,  and  kept  me  down  under 
water,  but,  contrary  to  my  expectation,  let  me  go  again. 
On  rising  to  the  surface,  I  got  hold  of  a  trunk,  on  which 
two  other  men  were  then  holding.  Just  at  this  spot, 
where  the  Split-rock  rapids  terminate,  the  banks  of  the 
river  are  well  inhabited  ;  and  we  could  see  women  on 
shore  running  about  much  agitated.  A  canoe  put  off,  and 
picked  up  three  of  our  number,  who  had  gained  the  bot- 
tom of  the  barge,  which  had  upset  and  got  rid  of  its 
cargo ;  these  they  landed  on  an  island.  The  canoe  put 


THE     MUSEUM.  27 

off  again,  and  was  approaching  near  to  where  I  was, 
with  two  others,  holding  on  the  trunk  ;  when,  terrified 
with  the  vicinity  of  the  Cascades,  to  which  we  were  ap- 
proaching, it  put  back,  notwithstanding  my  exhortations, 
in  French  and  English,  to  induce  the  two  men  on  board  to 
advance.  The  bad  hold  which  one  man  had  of  the  trunk  to 
which  we  were  adhering,  subjected  him  to  constant  immer- 
sion ;  and,  in  order  to  escape  his  seizing  hold  of  me,  I  let  go 
the  trunk,  and,  in  conjunction  with  another  man,  got  hold 
of  the  boom  (which,  with  the  gaff,  sails,  &c.,  had  been 
detached  from  the  mast  to  make  room  for  the  cargo,)  and 
floated  off.  I  had  just  time  to  grasp  this  boom,  when  we 
were  hurried  into  the  Cascades ;  in  these  I  was  instantly 
buried,  and  nearly  suffocated.  On  rising  to  the  surface, 
I  found  one  of  my  hands  still  on  the  boom,  and  my  com- 
panion also  adhering  to  the  gaff.  Shortly  after  descend- 
ing the  Cascades,  I  perceived  the  barge  bottom  upwards 
floating  near  me.  I  succeeded  in  getting  near  to  it,  and 
held  by  a  crack  in  one  end  of  it ;  the  violence  of  the 
water,  and  the  falling  out  of  the  casks  of  ashes,  had  quite 
wrecked  it.  For  a  long  time  I  contented  myself  with  this 
hold,  not  daring  to  endeavor  to  get  upon  the  bottom, 
which  I  at  length  effected  ;  and  from  this,  my  new  situa- 
tion, I  called  out  to  my  companion,  who  still  preserved 
his  hold  of  the  gaff.  He  shook  his  head  ;  and,  when  the 
waves  suffered  me  to  look  up  again,  he  was  gone.  He 
made  no  attempt  to  come  near  me,  being  unable  or  un- 
willing to  let  go  his  hold,  and  trust  himself  to  the  waves, 
which  were  then  rolling  over  his  head. 

The  Cascades  are  a  kind  of  fall  or  rapid  descent  in  the 
river,  over  a  rocky  channel  below :  going  down  is  called 
by  the  French  "  Sauter,"  to  leap  or  shove  the  Cascades. 
For  two  miles  below,  the  channel  continues  in  uproar, 
just  like  a  storm  at  sea;  and  I  was  frequently  nearly 
washed  off  the  barge  by  the  waves  which  rolled  over. 
I  now  entertained  no  hope  whatever  of  escaping;  and 
although  I  continued  to  exert  myself  to  hold  on,  such  was 
the  state  to  which  I  was  reduced  by  cold,  that  I  wished 
only  for  speedy  death,  and  frequently  thought  of  giving  up 
the  contest  as  useless.  I  felt  as  if  compressed  into  the 
size  of  a  monkey ;  my  hands  appeared  diminished  in  size 


29  THEMTTSETTM. 

one  half;  and  I  certainly  should  (after  I  became  very 
cold  and  much  exhausted,)  have  fallen  asleep,  but  for  the 
waves  that  were  passing  over,  and  obliged  me  to  attend 
to  my  situation.  I  had  never  descended  the  St.  Lawrence 
before,  but  I  knew  there  were  more  rapids  ahead,  perhaps 
another  set  of  cascades;  but,  at  all  events,  the  La  Chinese 
rapids,  whose  situation  I  did  not  exactly  know.  I  was 
in  hourly  expectation  of  these  putting  an  end  to  me,  and 
often  fancied  some  points  of  ice  extended  from  the  shore 
to  be  the  head  of  foaming  rapids.  At  one  of  the  moments 
in  which  the  succession  of  waves  permitted  me  to  look  up, 
I  saw  at  a  distance  a  canoe  with  four  men  coming  towards 
me,  and  waited  in  confidence  to  hear  the  sound  of  their 
paddles;  but  in  this  I  was  disappointed:  the  men,  as  I 
afterwards  learned,  were  Indians,  (genuine  descendants  of 
the  Tartars,)  who,  happening  to  fall  in  with  one  of  the 
passengers'  trunks,  picked  it  up,  and  returned  to  the  shore 
for  the  purpose  of  pillaging  it,  leaving,  as  they  since  ac- 
knowledged, the  man  on  the  boat  to  his  fate.  Indeed,  I 
am  certain  I  should  have  had  more  to  fear  from  their 
avarice  than  to  hope  from  their  humanity ;  and  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  my  life  would  have  been  taken,  to 
secure  them  in  the  possession  of  my  watch  and  several 
half-eagles  which  I  had  about  me. 

The  accident  happened  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
In  the  course  of  some  hours,  as  the  day  advanced,  the  sun 
grew  warmer,  the  wind  blew  from  the  south,  and  the 
water  became  calmer.  I  got  upon  my  knees,  and  found 
myself  in  the  small  lake  of  St.  Louis,  about  from  three  to 
five  miles  wide  ;  with  some  difficulty  I  got  upon  my  feet, 
but  was  soon  convinced,  by  cramps  and  spasms  in  all  my 
sinews,  that  I  was  incapable  of  swimming  any  distance, 
and  I  was  then  two  miles  from  shore.  I  was  now  going 
with  wind  and  current  to  destruction ;  and  cold,  hungry, 
and  fatigued,  was  obliged  again  to  sit  down  in  the  water 
to  rest,  when  an  extraordinary  circumstance  greatly  re- 
lieved me.  On  examining  the  wreck,  to  see  if  it  were 
possible  to  detach  any  part  thereof  to  steer  by,  I  perceived 
something  loose,  entangled  in  a  fork  of  the  wreck,  and  so 
carried  along.  This  I  found  to  be  a  small  trunk,  bottom 
upwards,  which,  with  some  difficulty,  I  dragged  upon  the 


THEMUSEUM.  29 

oarge.  After  near  an  hour's  work,  during  which  I  broke 
my  penknife,  trying  to  cut  out  the  lock,  I  made  a  hole  in 
it,  and  to  my  very  great  satisfaction,  drew  out  a  bottle  of 
rum,  a  cold  tongue,  some  cheese,  and  a  bag  full  of  bread, 
cakes,  &c.,  all  wet.  Of  these  I  made  a  seasonable  though 
very  moderate  use,  and  the  trunk  answered  the  purpose 
of  a  chair  to  sit  upon,  elevated  above  the  surface  of  the 
water. 

After  in  vain  endeavoring  to  steer  the  wreck,  or  direct 
its  course  to  the  shore,  and  having  made  every  signal  (with 
my  waistcoat,  &c.)  in  my  power,  to  the  several  headlands 
which  I  passed,  I  fancied  I  was  driving  into  a  bay,  which 
however,  soon  proved  to  be  the  termination  of  the  lake,  and 
the  opening  of  the  river,  the  current  of  which  was  carrying 
me  rapidly  along.  I  passed  several  small  uninhabited 
islands ;  but  the  banks  of  the  river,  appearing  to  be  covered 
with  houses,  I  again  renewed  my  signals,  with  my  waist- 
coat and  a  shirt  which  I  took  out  of  the  trunk,  hoping,  as 
the  river  narrowed,  they  might  be  perceived  ;  but  the  dis- 
tance was  too  great.  The  velocity  with  which  I  was  going, 
convinced  me  of  the  near  approach  to  the  dreadful  rapids 
of  La  Chine.  Night  was  drawing  on,  my  destruction 
appeared  certain,  but  did  not  disturb  me  very  much :  the 
idea  of  death  had  lost  its  novelty,  and  became  quite  fami- 
liar. Finding  signals  in  vain,  I  now  set  up  a  cry  or  howl, 
such  as  I  thought  best  calculated  to  carry  to  a  distance, 
and,  being  favored  by  the  wind,  it  did,  although  at  above  a 
mile's  distance,  reach  the  ears  of  some  people  on  the 
shore.  At  last  I  perceived  a  boat  rowing  towards  me, 
which  being  very  small  and  white-bottomed,  I  had  for 
some  time  taken  for  a  fowl  with  a  white  breast ;  and  I 
was  taken  off  the  barge  by  Captain  Johnstone,  after  being 
ten  hours  in  the  water.  I  found  myself  at  the  village  of 
La  Chine,  twenty-one  miles  below  where  the  accident  hap- 
pened, and  having  been  driven  by  the  winding  of  the  cur- 
rent a  much  greater  distance.  I  received  no  other  injury 
than  bruised  knees  and  breast,  with  a  slight  cold  :  the  ac- 
cident took  some  hold  of  my  imagination,  and  for  seven  or 
eight  succeeding  nights,  in  my  dreams,  I  was  engaged  in 
the  dangers  of  the  cascades,  and  surrounded  by  drowning 
men. 

3* 


30  THEMUSEUM. 


RESURRECTION    FROM   THE   GRAVE. 

Two  Parisian  merchants,  strongly  united  in  friendship, 
had  each  one  child  of  different  sexes,  who  early  contracted 
a  strong  inclination  for  each  other,  which  was  cherished 
by  the  parents,  and  they  were  flattered  with  the  expecta- 
tions of  being  joined  together  for  life.  Unfortunately,  at 
the  time  they  thought  themselves  on  the  point  of  complet- 
ing this  long  wished  for  union,  a  man,  far  advanced  in 
years,  and  possessed  of  an  immense  fortune,  cast  his  eyes 
on  the  young  lady,  and  made  honorable  proposals ;  her 
parents  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  a  son-in-law  in 
such  affluent  circumstances,  and  forced  her  to  comply.  As 
soon  as  the  knot  was  tied,  she  strictly  enjoined  her  former 
lover  never  to  see  her,  and  patiently  submitted  to  her  fate  ; 
but  the  anxiety  of  her  mind  preyed  upon  her  body,  which 
threw  her  into  a  lingering  disorder,  that  apparently  car- 
ried her  off,  and  she  was  consigned  to  her  grave. 

As  soon  as  this  melancholy  event  reached  the  lover,  his 
affliction  was  doubled,  being  deprived  of  all  hopes  of  her 
widowhood ;  but  recollecting  that  in  her  youth,  she  had 
been  for  some  time  in  a  lethargy,  his  hopes  revived,  and 
hurried  him  to  the  place  of  her  burial,  where  a  good  bribe 
procured  the  sexton's  permission  to  dig  her  up,  which  he 
performed,  and  removed  her  to  a  place  of  safety,  where, 
by  proper  methods,  he  revived  the  almost  extinguished 
spark  of  life.  Great  was  her  surprise  at  finding  the  state 
she  had  been  in  ;  and  probably  as  great  was  her  pleasure, 
at  the  means  by  which  she  had  been  recalled  from  the 
grave.  As  soon  as  she  was  sufficiently  recovered,  the 
lover  laid  his  claim  ;  and  his  reasons,  supported  by  a  pow- 
erful inclination  on  her  side,  were  too  strong  to  resist ;  but 
as  France  was  no  longer  a  place  of  safety  for  them,  they 
agreed  to  remove  to  England,  where  they  continued  ten 
years,  when  a  strong  inclination  of  revisiting  their  native 
country  seized  them,  which  they  thought  they  might  safely 
gratify,  and  accordingly  performed  their  voyage. 

The  lady  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  known  by  her  old 
husband,  whom  she  met  in  a  public  walk,  and  all  her 
endeavors  to  disguise  herself  were  ineffectual.  He  laid 


THE    MUSEUM.  31 

his  claim  to  her,  before  a  court  of  justice,  and  the  lover 
defended  his  right,  alleging,  that  the  husband,  by  burying 
her,  had  forfeited  his  title ;  and  that  he  had  acquired  a 
just  one,  by  freeing  her  from  the  grave,  and  delivering  her 
from  the  jaws  of  death.  These  reasons,  whatever  weight 
they  might  have  in  a  court  where  love  presided,  seemed 
to  have  little  effect  on  the  grave  sages  of  the  law  ;  and  the 
lady,  with  her  lover,  not  thinking  it  safe  to  wait  the  deter- 
mination of  the  court,  prudently  retired  out  of  the  king- 
dom.— Causes  Celebres. 


THE    MERCURIAL    MINES   OF    IDRIA. 

MALEFACTORS  are  condemned  to  these  mines  to  work 
for  life,  as  this  kind  of  labor  is  the  most  unwholesome  that 
can  be.  The  following  pathetic  display  of  the  miseries  of 
those  who  are  doomed  to  toil  in  them,  is  extracted  from 
an  epistolary  correspondence  between  an  ingenious  tra- 
veller and  his  friend : 

"  After  passing  through  several  parts  of  the  Alps,  and 
having  visited  Germany,  I  thought  I  could  not  return  home 
without  visiting  the  quicksilver  mines  at  Idria,  and  seeing 
those  dreadful  subterraneous  caverns,  where  thousands  are 
condemned  to  reside,  shut  out  from  all  hopes  of  ever  see- 
ing the  cheerful  light  of  the  sun,  and  obliged  to  toil  out  a 
miserable  life  under  the  whips  of  imperious  task-masters. 
Imagine  to  yourself  a  hole  in  the  side  of  a  mountain,  about 
five  yards  over:  down  this  you  are  let,  in  a  kind  of 
bucket,  more  than  one  hundred  fathoms,  the  prospect 
growing  more  gloomy,  yet  still  widening  as  you  descend. 
At  length,  after  swinging  in  terrible  suspense  for  some  ' 
time  in  this  precarious  situation,  you  then  reach  the  bot- 
tom, and  tread  on  the  ground,  which,  by  its  hollow  sound 
under  your  feet,  and  the  reverberations  of  the  echo,  seems 
thundering  at  every  step  you  take.  In  this  gloomy  and 
frightful  solitude,  you  are  enlightened  by  the  feeble  gleam 
of  lamps,  here  and  there  dispersed,  so  as  that  the  wretched 
inhabitants  of  these  mansions  can  go  from  one  place  to 
another  without  a  guide ;  and  yet,  let  me  assure  you,  that 


82  THE    MUSEUM. 

though  they,  by  custom,  could  see  objects  very  distinctly 
by  these  lights,  I  could  scarce  discern,  for  some  time,  any 
thing,  not  even  the  person  who  came  with  me  to  show  me 
these  scenes  of  horror. 

"  From  this  description,  I  suppose,  you  have  but  a  dis- 
agreeable idea  of  this  place,  yet  let  me  assure  you,  that  it 
is  a  palace,  if  we  compare  the  habitation  with  the  inhabi- 
tants: such  wretches  my  eyes  never  yet  beheld.  The 
blackness  of  their  visages  only  serves  to  cover  a  horrid 
paleness,  caused  by  the  noxious  qualities  of  the  mineral 
they  are  employed  in  procuring.  As  they,  in  general, 
consist  of  malefactors,  condemned  for  life  to  this  task,  they 
are  fed  at  the  public  expense  ;  but  seldom  consume  much 
provision,  as  they  lose  their  appetites  in  a  short  time,  and 
commonly  in  about  two  years  expire,  through  a  total  con- 
traction of  all  the  joints  of  the  body. 

"In  this  horrid  mansion  I  walked  after  my  guide  for 
some  time,  pondering  on  the  strange  tyranny  and  avarice 
of  mankind,  when  I  was  accosted  by  a  voice  behind  me 
calling  me  by  my  name,  and  inquiring  after  my  health  with 
the  most  cordial  affection.  I  turned,  and  saw  a  creature 
all  black  and  hideous,  who  approached  me,  and  with  a 
piteous  accent  said,  'Ah,  Everard,  do  you  not  know  me?' 
But  what  was  my  surprise,  when,  through  the  veil  of  this 
wretchedness,  I  discovered  the  features  of  a  dear  and  old 
friend.  I  flew  to  him  with  affection  ;  and,  after  a  tear  of 
condolence,  asked  how  he  came  there.  To  this  he  replied, 
that  having  fought  a  duel  with  an  officer  of  the  Austrian 
infantry,  against  the  emperor's  command,  and  having  left 
him  for  dead,  he  was  obliged  to  fly  into  the  forests  of 
Istria,  where  he  was  first  taken,  and  afterwards  sheltered 
by  some  banditti,  who  had  long  infested  that  quarter. 
With  these  he  lived  nine  months,  till,  by  a  close  investiture 
of  the  place  in  which  they  were  concealed,  and  after  a 
very  obstinate  resistance,  in  which  the  greater  part  of  them 
were  killed,  he  was  taken  and  carried  to  Vienna,  in  order 
to  be  broken  alive  upon  the  wheel.  However,  upon  ar- 
riving at  the  capital,  he  was  quickly  known ;  and  several 
of  the  associates  of  his  accusation  and  danger  witnessing 
nis  innocence,  his  punishment  of  the  rack  was  changed 
into  that  of  perpetual  banishment  and  labor  in  the  mines 


THE     MUSEUM.  33 

of  Idria, — a  sentence,  in  my  opinion,  a  thousand  times 
worse  than  death. 

"  As  my  old  friend  was  giving  me  this  account,  a  young 
woman  came  up  to  him,  who,  at  once,  I  perceived  to  be 
born  for  a  better  fortune :  the  dreadful  situation  of  this 
place  was  not  able  to  destroy  her  beauty  ;  and  even  in  this 
scene  of  wretchedness,  she  seemed  to  have  charms  suffi- 
cient to  grace  the  most  brilliant  assembly.  This  lady  was, 
in  fact,  daughter  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  Germany ; 
and  having  tried  every  means  to  procure  her  husband's 
pardon  without  effect,  was  at  last  resolved  to  share  his 
miseries,  as  she  could  not  relieve  them.  With  him  she 
accordingly  descended  into  these  mansions,  from  whence 
few  of  the  living  return  ;  and  with  him  she  was  contented 
to  live,  forgetting  the  gayeties  of  life,  and  with  him  to  toil, 
despising  the  splendor  of  opulence,  and  contented  with  the 
consciousness  of  her  own  constancy. 

"  I  wTas  afterwards  spectator  of  the  most  affecting  scene 
I  ever  beheld.  In  the  course  of  some  days  after  visiting 
the  gloomy  mansion  1  have  represented  to  you,  a  person 
came  post  from  Vienna  to  the  Idrian  bottom,  who  was 
followed  by  a  second,  and  he  by  a  third.  The  first  inquiry 
was  after  my  unfortunate  friend  ;  and  I  happening  to  over- 
hear the  demand,  gave  them  the  first  intelligence.  Two 
of  these  were  brother  and  cousin  of  the  lady,  the  third  was 
an  intimate  friend  and  fellow- soldier  to  my  friend.  They 
came  with  his  pardon,  which  had  been  procured  by  the 
general,  with  whom  the  duel  had  been  fought,  and  who 
was  perfectly  cured  of  his  wounds.  I  led  them,  with  all 
expedition  of  joy,  down  to  this  dreary  abode,  presented  to 
him  his  friends,  and  informed  him  of  the  happy  change  of 
his  circumstances.  It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the 
joy  that  brightened  upon  his  grief- worn  countenance  ;  nor 
was  the  young  lady's  emotions  less  vivid  at  seeing  her 
friends,  and  hearing  of  her  husband's  liberty. 

"  Some  hours  were  employed  in  mending  the  appear- 
ance of  this  faithful  couple ;  nor  could  I,  without  a  tear, 
behold  my  friend  taking  leave  of  the  former  wretched  com- 
panions of  his  toil.  To  one  he  left  his  mattock,  to  another 
his  working  clothes,  to  a  third  his  household  utensils,  such 
as  were  necessary  for  him  in  that  situation.  We  soon 


84  THE    MUSEUM. 

emerged  from  the  mine,  where  he  once  more  revisited 
the  light  of  the  sun,  that  he  had  totally  despaired  of  ever 
seeing  again.  A  post  chaise  and  four  were  ready  the 
next  morning  to  take  them  to  Vienna.  The  emperor 
again  took  him  into  favor,  his  fortune  and  rank  were  re- 
stored, and  he  and  his  fair  partner  had  now  the  satisfac- 
tion of  feeling  happiness  with  a  double  relish,  as  they 
once  knew  what  it  was  to  be  miserable." 


ATTEMPT  TO  TAKE  ARNOLD. 

GENERAL  WASHINGTON  having  learned  whither  Ar- 
nold had  fled,  deemed  it  possible  still  to  take  him,  and 
bring  him  to  the  just  reward  of  his  treachery.  To  ac- 
complish an  object  so  desirable,  and  at  the  same  time,  in 
so  doing,  to  save  Andre,  Washington  devised  a  plan, 
which,  although  it  ultimately  failed,  evinced  the  greatness 
of  his  powers,  and  his  unwearied  ardor  for  his  country's 
good. 

Having  matured  the  plan,  Washington  sent  to  Major 
Lee  to  repair  to  head  quarters,  (at  Tappan  on  the  Hud- 
son.) "  I  have  sent  for  you,"  said  Gen.  Washington,  "in 
the  expectation  that  you  have  some  one  in  your  corps, 
who  is  willing  to  undertake  a  delicate  and  hazardous  pro- 
ject. Whoever  comes  forward  will  confer  great  obliga- 
tions on  me  personally,  and  in  behalf  of  the  United 
States  I  will  reward  him  amply.  No  time  is  to  be  lost ; 
he  must  proceed,  if  possible,  to-night.  I  intend  to  seize 
Arnold  and  save  Andre." 

Major  Lee  named  a  sergeant-major  of  his  corps,  by 
the  name  of  Champe — a  native  of  Virginia,  a  man  full 
of  bone  and  muscle— with  a  countenance  grave,  thought- 
ful, and  taciturn — of  tried  courage  and  inflexible  perse- 
verance. 

Champe  was  sent  for  by  Major  Lee,  and  the  plan 
proposed.  This  was  for  him  to  desert — to  escape  to 
New  York — to  appear  friendly  to  the  enemy — to  watch 
Arnold,  and,  upon  some  fit  opportunity,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  some  one  whom  Champe  could  trust,  to  seize 


THE     MUSEUM.  35 

him  and  conduct  him  to  a  place  on  the  river,  appointed, 
where  boats  should  be  in  readiness  to  bear  him  away. 

Champe  listened  to  the  plan  attentively — but  with  the 
spirit  of  a  man  of  honor  and  integrity,  replied — "  that 
it  was  not  danger  nor  difficulty  that  deterred  him  from 
immediately  accepting  the  proposal,  but  the  ignominy  of 
desertion  and  the  hypocrisy  of  enlisting  with  the  enemy  /" 

To  these  objections  Lee  replied,  that  although  he 
would  appear  to  desert,  yet,  as  he  obeyed  the  call  of  his 
cornmander-in-chief,  his  departure  could  not  be  consid- 
ered as  criminal,  and  that  if  he  suffered  in  reputation  for 
a  time,  the  matter  should  one  day  be  explained  to  his 
credit. 

As  to  the  second  objection,  it  was  urged,  that  to  bring 
such  a  man  as  Arnold  to  justice — loaded  with  guilt  as 
he  was — and  to  save  Andre,  so  young,  so  accomplished, 
and  so  beloved — to  achieve  so  much  good  in  the  cause  of 
his  country,  was  more  than  sufficient  to  balance  a  wrong 
existing  only  in  appearance. 

The  objections  of  Champe  were  at  length  surmounted, 
and  he  accepted  the  service.  It  was  now  eleven  o'clock 
at  night.  With  his  instructions  in  his  pocket,  the  sergeant 
returned  to  camp,  and  taking  his  cloak,  valise,  and  order- 
ly book,  drew  his  horse  from  the  picket,  and  mounted, 
putting  himself  upon  fortune. 

Scarcely  half  an  hour  elapsed,  before  Capt.  Carnes, 
the  officer  of  the  day,  waited  upon  Lee,  who  was  vainly 
attempting  to  rest,  and  informed  him,  that  one  of  the 
patrol  had  fallen  in  with  a  dragoon,  who,  being  chal- 
lenged, put  spur  to  his  horse,  and  had  escaped. 

Lee,  hoping  to  conceal  the  flight  of  Champe,  or  at 
least  to  delay  pursuit,  complained  of  fatigue,  and  told 
the  captain  that  the  patrol  had  probably  mistaken  a  coun- 
tryman for  a  dragoon.  Carnes,  however,  was  not  thus 
to  be  quieted ;  but  withdrew  to  assemble  his  corps. 

On  examination,  it  was  found  that  Champe  was  ab- 
sent. The  captain  now  returned,  and  acquainted  Lee 
with  the  discovery,  adding  that  he  had  detached  a  party 
to  pursue  the  deserter,  and  begged  the  major's  written 
orders. 

After  making  as  much  delay  as  was  practicable,  with- 


36  THE    MUSEUM. 

out  exciting  suspicion,  Lee  del  vered  his  orders — in  which 
he  directed  the  party  to  lake  Champe  if  possible.  "  Bring 
him  alive,"  said  he,  "  that  he  may  suHer  in  the  presence 
of  the  army,  but  kill  him  if  he  resists,  or  if  he  escapes 
after  being  taken." 

A  shower  of  rain  fell  soon  after  Champe  departed, 
which  enabled  the  pursuing  dragoons  to  take  the  (rail  of 
his  horse,  his  shoes,  in  common  with  those  of  the  horses 
of  the  army,  being  made  in  a  peculiar  form,  and  each 
having  a  private  mark,  which  was  to  be  seen  in  the 
path. 

Middleton,  the  leader  of  the  pursuing  party,  left  the 
camp  a  few  minutes  past  twelve,  so  that  Champe  had  the 
start  of  but  little  more  than  an  hour — a  period  by  far 
shorter  than  had  been  contemplated. 

During  the  night,  the  dragoons  were  often  delayed  in 
the  necessary  halts  to  examine  the  road ;  but  on  the 
coming  of  morning,  the  impression  of  the  horse's  shoes 
was  so  apparent,  that  they  pressed  on  with  rapidity. 

Some  miles  above  Bergen,  (a  village  three  miles  north 
of  New  York,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Hudson,)  on 
ascending  a  hill,  Champe  was  descried,  not  more  than 
half  a  mile  distant.  Fortunately,  Champe  descried  his 
pursuers  at  the  same  moment,  and  conjecturing  their  ob- 
ject, put  spur  to  his  horse,  with  the  hope  of  escape. 

By  taking  a  different  road,  Champe  was  for  a  time 
lost  sight  of — but  on  approaching  the  river  he  was  again 
descried.  Aware  of  his  danger,  he  now  lashed  his  valise, 
containing  his  clothes  and  orderly  book,  to  his  shoulders, 
and  prepared  himself  to  plunge  into  the  river,  if  neces- 
sary. 

Swift  was  his  flight,  and  swift  was  the  pursuit.  Mid- 
dleton and  his  party  were  within  a  few  hundred  yards, 
when  Champe  threw  himself  from  his  horse,  and  plunged 
into  the  river,  calling  aloud  upon  some  British  galleys,  at 
no  great  distance,  for  help. 

A  boat  was  instantly  despatched  to  the  sergeant's 
assistance,  and  a  fire  commenced  upon  the  pursuers. 
Champe  was  taken  on  board,  and  soon  after  carried  to 
New  York,  with  a  letter  from  the  captain  of  the  galley 
stating  the  past  scene,  all  of  which  he  had  witnessed. 


THEMTTSETTM.  37 

Adjoining  the  house  in  which  Arnold  resided,  and  at 
which  it  was  designed  to  seize  and  gag  him,  Champe  had 
taken  off  several  of  the  palings,  and  replaced  them  so 
that,  with  ease  and  without  noise,  he  could  readily 
open  his  way  to  the  adjoining  alley.  Into  this  alley  he 
intended  to  convey  his  prisoner,  aided  by  his  companion, 
and  one  or  two  associates,  who  had  been  introduced  by 
the  friend  to  whom  Champe  had  been  originally  made 
known  by  letter  from  the  commander-in-chief,  and  with 
whose  aid  and  counsel  he  had  so  far  conducted  the  enter- 
prise. His  other  associate  was,  with  the  boat,  prepared 
at  one  of  the  wharves  on  the  Hudson  river,  to  receive 
the  party. 

Champe  and  his  friend  intended  to  have  placed  them- 
selves each  under  Arnold's  shoulder,  and  to  have  thus 
borne  him  through  the  most  unfrequented  alleys  and 
streets  to  the  boat,  representing  Arnold,  in  case  of  being 
questioned,  as  a  drunken  soldier,  whom  they  were  con- 
veying to  the  guard-house. 

When  arrived  at  the  boat,  the  difficulties  would  be  all 
surmounted,  there  being  no  danger  nor  obstacle  in  pass- 
ing to  the  Jersey  shore.  These  particulars,  as  soon  as 
made  known  to  Lee,  were  communicated  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, who  was  highly  gratified  with  the 
much  desired  intelligence.  He  desired  Major  Lee  to 
meet  Champe,  and  to  take  care  that  Arnold  should  not 
be  hurt. 

The  day  arrived,  and  Lee,  with  a  party  of  accoutred 
horses,  one  for  Arnold,  one  for  the  sergeant,  and  the 
third  for  his  associate,  who  was  to  assist  in  securing 
Arnold,  left  the  camp,  never  doubting  the  success  of  the 
enterprise,  from  the  tenor  of  the  last  received  communi- 
cation. The  party  reached  Hoboken  about  midnight, 
where  they  were  concealed  in  the  adjoining  wood — Lee, 
with  three  dragoons,  stationing  himself  near  the  shore  of 
the  river.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  but  no  boat  ap- 
proached. 

At  length  the  day  broke,  and  the  major  retired  to  his 
party,  and  with  his  led  horses  returned  to  the  camp, 
where  he  proceeded  to  head  quarters  to  inform  the  gen- 
eral of  the  much  lamented  disappointment,  as  mortifying 

4 


38  THE    MUSEUM. 

as  inexplicable.  Washington  having  perused  Champe's 
plan  and  communication,  had  indulged  the  presumption, 
that  at  length  the  object  of  his  keen  and  constant  pursuit, 
was  sure  of  execution,  and  did  not  dissemble  the  joy 
such  a  conviction  produced.  He  was  chagrined  at  the 
issue,  and  apprehended  that  his  faithful  sergeant  must 
have  been  detected  in  the  last  scene  of  his  tedious  and 
difficult  enterprise. 

In  a  few  days  Lee  received  an  anonymous  letter  from 
Charnpe's  patron  and  friend,  informing  him  that  on  the 
day  preceding  the  night  for  the  execution  of  the  plot, 
Arnold  had  removed  his  quarters  to  another  part  of  the 
town,  to  superintend  the  embarkation  of  troops  prepar- 
ing, as  was  rumored,  for  an  expedition  to  be  directed  by 
himself;  and  that  the  American  legion,  consisting  chiefly 
of  American  deserters,  had  been  transferred  from  their 
barracks  to  one  of  the  transports,  it  being  apprehended 
that  if  left  on  shore  until  the  expedition  was  ready,  many 
of  them  might  desert. 

Thus  it  happened,  that  John  Charnpe,  instead  of  cross- 
ing the  Hudson  that  night,  was  safely  deposited  on  board 
one  of  the  fleet  of  transports,  from  whence  he  never  de- 
parted, until  the  troops  under  Arnold  landed  in  Virginia. 
Nor  was  he  able  to  escape  from  the  British  army  until 
after  the  junction  of  Cornwallis  at  Petersburgh,  when  he 
deserted  ;  and  proceeding  high  up  into  Virginia,  he  pass- 
ed into  North  Carolina,  near  the  Saury  towns,  and  keep- 
ing in  the  friendly  districts  of  that  state,  safely  joined  the 
army  soon  after  it  had  passed  the  Congaree,  in  pursuit 
of  Lord  Rawdon. 

His  appearance  excited  supreme  surprise  among  his 
former  comrades,  which  was  not  a  little  increased,  when 
they  saw  the  cordial  reception  he  met  with  from  the 
late  major,  now  lieutenant  colonel,  Lee.  His  whole 
story  was  soon  known  to  the  corps,  which  reproduced 
the  love  and  respect  of  officer  and  soldier,  (heretofore 
invariably  entertained  for  the  sergeant,)  heightened  by 
universal  admiration  of  his  late  daring  and  arduous  at- 
tempt. 

Champe  was  introduced  to  General  Green,  who  very 
cheerfully  complied  with  the  promise  made  by  the  com- 


THE    MUSEUM.  39 

mander-in-chief,  so  far  as  in  his  power ;  and  having  pro- 
vided the  sergeant  with  a  good  horse  and  money  for  his 
journey,  sent  him  to  General  Washington,  who  munifi- 
cently anticipated  every  desire  of  the  sergeant,  and  pre- 
sented him  with  a  discharge  from  further  service,  lest  he 
might,  in  the  vicissitudes  of  war,  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  when,  if  recognised,  he  was  sure  to  die  on 
the  jibbet. 

We  shall  only  add  respecting  the  after  life  of  this  in- 
teresting adventurer,  that  when  Gen.  Washington  was 
called  by  Pres.  Adams,  in  1798,  to  the  command  of  the 
army,  prepared  to  defend  the  country  against  French 
hostility,  he  sent  to  Lieutenant  Colonel  Lee,  to  inquire 
for  Champe  ;  being  determined  to  bring  him  into  the 
field  at  the  head  of  a  company  of  infantry.  Lee  sent  to 
Loudon  county,  Virginia,  where  Champe  settled  after  his 
discharge  from  the  army ;  when  he  learned  that  the  gal- 
lant soldier  had  removed  to  Kentucky,  where  he  soon  af- 
ter died. 


THE  VENTRILOQUIST  AND  THE  MONKS. 

M.  BE  LA.  CIIAPELLE  informs  us,  that  M.  St.  Gill,  the 
ventriloquist,  and  his  friend,  returning  home  from  a  place 
whither  his  business  had  carried  him,  sought  for  shelter 
from  an  approaching  thunder  storm  in  a  neighboring  con- 
vent. Finding  the  whole  community  in  mourning,  he  in- 
quired the  cause,  and  was  told  that  one  of  their  body  had 
died  lately,  who  was  the  ornament  and  delight  of  the  whole 
society.  To  pass  away  the  time,  he  walked  into  the 
church,  attended  by  some  of  the  religious,  who  showed 
him  the  tomb  of  their  deceased  brother,  and  spoke  feel- 
ingly of  the  scanty  honors  they  had.  bestowed  on  his 
memory.  Suddenly  a  voice  was  heard,  apparently  pro- 
ceeding from  the  roof  of  the  choir,  lamenting  the  situation 


40  THE    MUSEUM. 

of  the  defunct  in  purgatory,  and  reproaching  the  brother- 
hood with  their  lukewarrnness  and  want  of  zeal  on  his  own 
account.  The  friars,  as  soon  as  their  astonishment  gave 
them  power  to  speak,  consulted  together,  and  agreed  to 
acquaint  the  rest  of  the  community  with  this  singular  event, 
so  interesting  to  the  whole  society.  M.  St.  Gill,  who 
wished  to  carry  on  the  joke  still  farther,  dissuaded  them 
from  taking  this  step  ;  telling  them  that  they  would  be 
treated  by  their  absent  brethren,  as  a  set  of  fools  and  vi- 
sionaries. He  recommending  to  them,  however,  the  im- 
mediately calling  of  the  whole  community  into  the  church, 
where  the  ghost  of  their  departed  brother  might  probably 
reiterate  his  complaints. 

Accordingly  all  the  friars,  novices,  lay-brothers,  and  even 
the  domestics  of  the  convent,  were  immediately  summoned 
and  collected  together.  In  a  short  time  the  voice  from  the 
roof  renewed  its  lamentation  and  reproaches,  and  the 
whole  convent  fell  on  their  faces  and  vowed  a  solemn  re- 
paration. As  a  first  step,  they  chanted  a  De  profundis  in 
a  full  choir ;  during  the  intervals  of  which,  the  ghost  occa- 
sionally expressed  the  comfort  he  received  from  their  pious 
exercises  and  ejaculations  on  his  behalf.  When  all  was 
over,  the  prior  entered  into  a  serious  conversation  with  M. 
St.  Gill;  and  on  the  strength  of  what  had  just  passed, 
sagaciously  inveighed  against  the  absurd  incredulity  of 
modern  sceptics  and  pretended  philosophers,  on  the  article 
of  ghosts  or  apparitions.  M.  St.  Gill  thought  it  now  high 
time  to  undeceive  the  good  fathers.  This  purpose,  how- 
ever, he  found  it  extremely  difficult  to  effect,  till  he  had 
prevailed  upon  them  to  return  with  him  into  the  church, 
and  there  be  witnesses  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
conducted  this  ludicrous  deception. 


FORTITUDE    OF    THE    INDIAN    CHARACTER. 

A  PARTY  of  the  Seneca  Indians  came  to  war  against  the 
Ratahba,  bitter  enemies  to  each  other.  In  the  woods,  the 
former  discovered  a  sprightly  warrior  belonging  to  the 
latter,  hunting  in  their  usual  light  dress  :  on  his  perceiving 


THE     MUSEUM  .  41 

them,  he  sprung  off  for  a  hollow  rock  four  or  five  miles 
distant,  as  they  intercepted  him  from  running  homeward. 
He  was  so  extremely  swift  and  skilful  with  the  gun,  as  to 
kill  seven  of  them  in  the  running  fight  before  they  were 
able  to  surround  and  take  him.  They  carried  him  to  their 
country  in  sad  triumph  ;  but  though  he  had  filled  them  with 
uncommon  grief  and  shame  for  the  loss  of  so  many  of  their 
kindred,  yet  the  love  of  martial  virtue  induced  them  to 
treat  him,  during  their  long  journey,  with  a  great  deal  more 
civility  than  if  he  had  acted  the  part  of  a  coward.  The 
women  and  children  when  they  met  him  at  their  several 
towns  beat  him  and  whipped  him  in  as  severe  a  manner 
as  the  occasion  required,  according  to  their  law  of  justice, 
and  at  last  he  was  formally  condemned  to  die  by  the  fiery 
torture.  It  might  reasonably  be  imagined  that  what  he 
had  for  some  time  gone  through,  by  being  fed  with  a 
scanty  hand,  a  tedious  march,  lying  at  night  on  the  bare 
ground,  exposed  to  the  changes  of  the  weather,  with  his 
arms  and  legs  extended  in  a  pair  of  rough  stocks,  and 
suffering  such  punishment  on  his  entering  into  their  hostile 
towns,  as  a  prelude  to  those  sharp  torments  to  which  he 
was  destined,  would  have  so  impaired  his  health  and 
affected  his  imagination  as  to  have  sent  him  to  his  long 
sleep,  out  of  the  way  of  any  more  sufferings.  Probably 
this  would  have  been  the  case  with  the  major  part  of  white 
people  under  similar  circumstances  ;  but  I  never  knew 
this  with  any  of  the  Indians  :  and  this  cool-headed,  brave 
warrior,  did  not  deviate  from  their  rough  lessons  of  martial 
virtue,  but  acted  his  part  so  well  as  to  surprise  and  sorely 
vex  his  numerous  enemies :  for  when  they  were  taking 
him,  unpinioned,  in  their  wild  parade,  to  the  place  of  tor- 
ture, which  lay  near  to  a  river,  he  suddenly  dashed  down 
those  who  stood  in  his  way,  sprung  off,  and  plunged  into 
the  water,  swimming  underneath  like  an  otter,  only  rising 
to  take  breath,  till  he  reached  the  opposite  shore.  He  now 
ascended  the  steep  bank,  but  though  he  had  good  reason 
to  be  in  a  hurry,  as  many  of  the  enemy  were  in  the  water, 
and  others  running,  like  blood-hounds,  in  pursuit  of  him, 
and  the  bullets  flying  around  him  from  the  time  he  took  to 
the  river,  yet  his  heart  did  not  allow  him  to  leave  them 
abruptly,  without  taking  leave  in  a  formal  manner,  in  re- 

4* 


42  THE    MUSEUM. 

turn  for  the  extraordinary  favors  they  had  done,  and  in- 
tended to  do  him.  After  slapping  a  part  of  his  body,  in 
defiance  to  them,  (continues  the  author,)  he  put  up  the 
shrill  war  hoop,  as  his  last  salute,  till  some  more  convenient 
opportunity  offered,  and  darted  off  in  the  manner  of  a 
beast  broke  loose  from  its  torturing  enemies.  He  con- 
tinued his  speed,  so  as  to  run  by  about  midnight  of  the 
same  day  as  far  as  his  eager  pursuers  were  two  days  in 
reaching.  There  he  rested,  till  he  happily  discovered  five 
of  those  Indians  who  had  pursued  him :  he  lay  hid  a  little 
way  off  their  camp,  till  they  were  sound  asleep.  Every 
circumstance  of  his  situation  occurred  to  him,  and  inspired 
him  with  heroism.  He  was  naked,  torn,  and  hungry,  and 
his  enraged  enemies  were  come  up  with  him  ;  but  there 
was  now  every  thing  to  relieve  his  wants,  and  a  fair  op- 
portunity to  save  his  life,  and  get  great  honor  and  sweet 
revenge  by  cutting  them  off.  Resolution,  a  convenient 
spot,  and  sudden  surprise,  would  effect  the  main  object  of 
all  his  wishes  and  hopes.  He  accordingly  crept,  took  one 
of  their  tomahawks,  and  killed  them  all  on  the  spot — 
clothed  himself,  took  a  choice  gun,  and  as  much  ammuni- 
tion and  provisions  as  he  could  well  carry  in  a  running 
march.  He  set  off  afresh,  with  a  light  heart,  and  did  not 
sleep  for  several  successive  nights,  only  when  he  reclined, 
as  usual,  a  little  before  day,  with  his  back  to  a  tree.  As 
it  were  by  instinct,  when  he  found  he  was  free  from  the 
pursuing  enemy,  he  made  directly  to  the  very  place 
where  he  had  killed  seven  of  his  enemies,  and  where 
he  had  been  taken  by  them  to  the  fiery  torture.  He  dug 
them  up,  burnt  their  bodies  to  ashes,  and  went  home  in 
safety  with  singular  triumph.  Other  pursuing  enemies 
came,  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  to  the  camp  of 
their  dead  people,  when  the  sight  gave  them  a  greater 
shock  than  they  had  ever  known  before.  In  their  chilled 
war  council  they  concluded,  that  as  he  had  done  such  sur- 
prising things  in  his  defence  before  he  was  captured,  and 
since  that  in  his  naked  condition,  and  now  was  well  armed, 
if  they  continued  the  pursuit,  he  would  kill  them  all,  for  he 
surely  was  an  enemy  wizard, — and  therefore  they  return- 
ed home. 


THE    MUSEUM  43 


EXTRAORDINARY    TRICK   OF    A    VENTRILOQUIST. 

FROM  Brodeau,  a  learned  critic  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
we  have  the  following  account  of  the  feats  of  a  capital  ven- 
triloquist and  cheat,  who  was  valet-de-chambre  to  Francis 
the  First.  This  fellow,  whose  name  was  Louis  Brabant, 
had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  a  young,  handsome,  and 
rich  heiress  ;  but  was  rejected  by  the  parents  as  an  unsuita- 
ble match  for  their  daughter,  on  account  of  the  lowness  of 
his  circumstances.  The  young  lady's  father  dying,  he 
made  a  visit  to  the  widow,  who  was  totally  ignorant  of  his 
singular  talent.  Suddenly,  on  his  first  appearance  in  open 
day,  in  her  own  house,  and  in  the  presence  of  several  per- 
sons who  were  with  her,  she  heard  herself  accosted,  in  a 
voice  perfectly  resembling  that  of  her  dead  husband,  and 
which  seemed  to  proceed  from,  above,  exclaiming,  "  Give 
my  daughter  in  marriage  to  Louis  Brabant ;  he  is  a  man 
of  great  fortune,  and  of  an  excellent  character.  I  now 
endure  the  inexpressible  torments  of  purgatory,  for  having 
refused  her  to  him.  If  you  obey  this  admonition,  I  shall 
soon  be  delivered  from  this  place  of  torment.  You  will  at 
the  same  time  provide  a  worthy  husband  for  your  daugh- 
ter, and  procure  everlasting  repose  to  the  soul  of  your 
poor  husband." 

The  widow  could  not  for  a  moment  resist  this  dread 
summons,  which  had  not  the  most  distant  appearance  of 
proceeding  from  Louis  Brabant ;  whose  countenance  ex- 
hibited no  visible  change,  and  whose  lips  were  close  and 
motionless,  during  the  delivery  of  it.  Accordingly  she 
consented  immediately  to  receive  him  for  her  son-in-law. 
Louis'  finances,  however,  were  in  a  very  low  situation ; 
and  the  formalities  attending  the  marriage  contract  ren- 
dered it  necessary  for  him  to  exhibit  some  show  of  riches, 
and  not  to  give  the  ghost  the  lie  direct.  He  accordingly 
went  to  work  upon  a  fresh  subject,  one  Cornu,  an  old  and 
rich  banker  at  Lyons,  who  had  accumulated  immense 
wealth  by  usury  and  extortion,  and  was  known  to  be 
haunted  by  remorse  of  conscience  on  account  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  acquired  it. 

Having  contracted  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  this 


THE    MUSEUM. 

an,  lie,  one  day,  while  they  were  sitting  together  in  the 
usurer's  little  back  parlor,  artfully  turned  the  conversation 
on  religious  subjects,  on  demons  and  spectres,  the  pains 
of  purgatory,  and  the  torments  of  hell.  During  an  interval 
of  silence  between  them,  a  voice  was  heard,  which  to  the 
astonished  banker,  seemed  to  be  that  of  his  deceased 
father,  complaining  as  in  the  former  case,  of  his  dreadful 
situation  in  purgatory,  and  calling  upon  him  to  deliver  him 
instantly  thence,  by  putting  into  the  hands  of  Louis  Bra 
bant,  then  with  him,  a  large  sum  for  the  redemption  of 
Christians  then  in  slavery  wiih  the  Turks  ;  and  threatening 
him  with  eternal  damnation  if  he  did  not  take  this  method 
to  expiate  likewise  his  own  sins.  The  reader  will  natu- 
rally suppose  that  Louis  Brabant  affected  a  due  degree  of 
astonishment  on  the  occasion  ;  and  further  promoted  the 
deception,  by  acknowledging  his  having  devoted  himself 
to  the  prosecution  of  the  charitable  design  imputed  to  him 
by  the  ghost.  An  old  ususer  is  naturally  suspicious.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  wary  banker  made  a  secand  appointment 
with  the  ghost's  delegate  for  the  next  day  ;  and,  to  render 
any  design  of  imposing  upon  him,  utterly  abortive,  took 
him  into  the  open  fields,  where  not  a  house,  or  a  tree  or 
even  a  bush,  or  a  pit,  was  in  sight,  capable  of  screening 
any  supposed  confederate.  This  extraordinary  caution 
excited  the  ventriloquist  to  exert  all  the  powers  of  his  art. 
Wherever  the  banker  conducted  him,  at  every  step  his  ears 
were  saluted  on  all  sides  with  the  complaints  and  groans 
not  only  of  his  father,^  but  of  all  his  deceased  relations ; 
imploring  him  for  the  love  of  God,  and  in  the  name  of 
every  saint  in  the  calender,  to  have  mercy  on  his  own  soul 
and  theirs,  by  effectually  seconding  with  his  purse  the  in- 
tentions of  his  worthy  companion.  Cornu  could  no  longer 
resist  the  voice  of  heaven,  and  accordingly  carried  his  guest 
home  with  him,  and  paid  him  down  10,000  crowns ;  with 
which  the  honest  ventriloquist  returned  to  Paris,  and  mar- 
ried his  mistress.  The  catastrophe  was  fatal.  The  secret 
was  afterwards  blown,  and  reached  the  usurer's  ears : 
who  was  so  much  affected  by  the  loss  of  his  money,  and 
the  mortifying  railleries  of  his  neighbors,  that  he  soon  took 
to  his  bed  and  died. 


THE    MUSEUM.  15 


FRATERNAL    AFFECTION. 

IN  the  year  1585,  the  Portuguese  Caracks  sailed  from 
Lisbon  to  Goa,  a  very  great,  rich,  and  flourishing  colony 
of  that  nation  in  the  East  Indies.  There  were  no  less  than 
twelve  hundred  souls — mariners,  passengers,  priests  and 
friars  on  board  one  of  these  vessels.  The  beginning  of 
their  voyage  was  prosperous;  they  had  doubled  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  great  continent  of  Africa,  called 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  were  steering  their  course 
northeast,  to  the  great  continent  of  India,  when  some  gen- 
tlemen on  board  who  had  studied  geography  and  naviga- 
tion, (arts  which  reflect  honor  on  the  possessors,)  found  in 
the  latitude  in  which  they  were  then  sailing,  a  large  ridge 
of  rocks  laid  down  in  their  sea-charts.  They  no  sooner 
made  this  discovery  than  they  acquainted  the  captain  of 
the  ship  with  the  affair,  desiring  him  to  communicate  the 
same  to  the  pilot ;  which  request  he  immediately  granted, 
recommending  to  him  to  lie  by  in  the  night,  and  slacken 
sail  by  day,  until  they  should  be  past  the  danger.  It  is 
always  a  custom  among  the  Portuguese,  absolutely  to 
commit  the  sailing  part,  or  the  navigation  of  the  vessel,  to 
the  pilot,  who  is  answerable  with  his  head  for  the  safe 
conduct  or  carriage  of  the  king's  ships,  or  those  belonging 
to  private  traders  :  and  he  is  under  no  manner  of  direction 
from  the  captain,  who  commands  in  every  other  respect. 

The  pilot  being  one  of  those  self-sufficient  men  who 
think  every  hint  given  them  from  others,  in  the  way  of 
their  profession,  derogatory  to  their  understandings,  took  it 
as  an  affront  to  be  taught  his  art,  and  instead  of  complying 
with  his  captain's  request,  actually  crowded  'more  sail  than 
the  vessel  had  previously  carried.  They  had  not  sailed 
many  hours,  when,  just  about  the  dawn  of  day,  a  terrible 
disaster  befel  them,  which  would  have  been  prevented  had 
they  lain  by.  The  ship  struck  upon  a  rock :  I  leave  to 
the  reader's  imagination  what  a  scene  of  horror  this  dread- 
ful accident  must  have  occasioned  among  twelve  hundred 
persons,  all  in  the  same  inevitable  danger  ;  and  beholding, 
with  fearful  astonishment,  that  instantaneous  death  which 
now  stared  them  full  in  the  face  ! 


46  THE    MUSEUM. 

In  this  distress,  the  captain  ordered  the  pinnacr  .-  be 
launched,  into  which  having  tossed  a  small  quantity  ?f  bis- 
cuit and  some  boxes  of  marmalade,  he  jumped  in  himself, 
with  nineteen  others,  who  with  their  drawn  swords,  pre- 
vented any  more  coming  into  the  boat,  lest  it  should  sink, 
In  this  condition  they  put  off  into  the  great  Indian  ocean, 
without  a  compass  to  steer  by,  or  any  fresh  water  but  what 
might  happen  to  fall  from  the  heaven,  whose  mercy  alone 
could  deliver  them.  After  rowing  to  and  fro  for  four  days 
in  this  miserable  condition,  the  captain,  who  for  some  time 
had  been  very  sickly  and  weak,  died.  This  added,  if  pos- 
sible, to  their  misery,  for  they  now  fell  into  confusion ; 
every  one  would  govern,  and  none  would  obey.  This 
obliged  them  to  elect  one  of  their  own  company  to  com- 
mand them,  whose  orders  they  agreed  implicitly  to  follow. 
This  person  proposed  to  the  company  to  draw  lots,  and  to 
cast  every  fourth  man  overboard ;  as  their  small  stock  of 
provisions  was  so  far  spent,  as  not  to  be  able,  at  a  very 
short  allowance,  so  sustain  life  above  three  days  longer. 
They  were  now,  nineteen  persons  in  all :  in  this  number 
were  a  friar  and  carpenter,  both  of  whom  they  would  ex- 
empt, as  the  one  was  useful  to  absolve  and  comfort  them 
in  their  last  extremity,  and  the  other  to  repair  the  pinnace, 
in  case  of  a  leak,  or  any  other  accident.  The  same  com- 
pliment they  paid  to  their  new  captain,  he  being  the  odd 
man,  and  his  life  of  much  consequence.  He  refused  their 
indulgence  a  great  while,  but  at  last  they  obliged  him  to 
acquiesce,  so  that  there  were  four  to  die  out  of  the  sixteen 
remaining  persons. 

The  three  first,  after  having  confessed  and  received 
absolution,  submitted  to  their  fate.  The  fourth  whom  for- 
tune condemned,  was  a  Portuguese  gentleman  that  had  a 
younger  brother  in  the  boat,  who,  seeing  him  about  to  be 
thrown  overboard,  most  tenderly  embraced  him,  and  with 
tears  besought  him  to  let  him  die  in  his  room,  enforcing 
his  arguments  by  telling  him  he  was  a  married  man,  and 
had  a  wife  and  children  at  Goa,  besides  the  care  of  three 
sisters,  who  absolutely  depended  upon  him  ;  that  as  for  him- 
self, he  was  single,  and  his  life  of  no  great  importance  :  he 
therefore  conjured  him  to  supply  his  place.  The  elder 
brother,  astonished,  and  melted  with  this  generosity,  re- 


THEMUSETTM.  47 

plied,  that  since  divine  providence  had  appointed  him  to 
suffer,  it  would  be  wicked  and  unjust  to  permit  any  other 
to  die  for  him,  especially  a  brother  to  whom  he  was  so  in- 
finitely obliged.  The  younger,  persisting  in  his  purpose, 
would  take  no  denial ;  but  throwing  himself  on  his  knees, 
held  his  brother  so  fast  that  the  company  could  not  disen- 
gage them.  Thus  they  disputed  for  a  while,  the  elder 
brother  bidding  him  be  a  father  to  his  children,  recom- 
mended his  wife  to  his  protection,  and  as  he  would  inherit 
his  estate,  to  take  care  of  their  common  sisters  ;  but  all  he 
could  say  could  not  make  the  younger  desist.  This  was  a 
scene  of  tenderness  that  must  fill  every  breast  susceptible 
of  generous  impressions  with  pity.  At  last  the  constancy 
of  the  elder  brother  yielded  to  the  piety  of  the  other.  He 
acquiesced,  and  suffered  the  gallant  youth  to  supply  his 
place,  who,  being  cast  into  the  sea,  and  a  good  swimmer, 
soon  got  to  the  stern  of  the  pinnace,  and  laid  hold  of  the 
rudder  with  his  right  hand,  which  being  perceived  by  one 
of  the  sailors,  he  cut  off  the  hand  with  his  sword  :  then 
dropping  into  the  sea  he  presently  caught  hold  again  with 
his  left,  which  received  the  same  fate  by  a  second  blow ; 
thus  dismembered  of  both  of  his  hands,  he  made  a  shift 
notwithstanding  to  keep  himself  above  water  with  his  feet 
and  two  stumps,  which  he  held  bleeding  upwards. 

This  moving  spectacle  so  raised  the  pity  of  the  whole 
company,  that  they  cried  out,  "  he  is  but  one  man,  let  us 
endeavor  to  save  his  life  ;"  and  he  was  accordingly  taken 
into  the  boat,  where  he  had  his  hands  bound  up  as  well  as 
the  place  and  circumstances  could  permit.  They  rowed 
all  that  night,  and  the  next  morning  when  the  sun  arose, 
as  if  heaven  would  reward  the  gallantry  and  piety  of  this 
young  man,  the  descried  land,  which  proved  to  be  the 
mountains  of  Mozambique  in  Africa,  not  far  from  a  Portu- 
guese colony.  Thither  they  all  safely  arrived,  where  they 
remained  until  the  next  ship  from  Lisbon  passed  by  and 
carried  them  to  Goa. 

At  that  city,  Linchoten,  an  author  of  great  credit  and 
esteem,  assures  us,  that  he  himself  saw  them  land,  supped 
with  the  two  brothers  that  very  night,  beheld  the  younger 
with  his  stumps,  and  had  the  story  from  both  their  mouths, 
as  well  as  from  the  rest  of  the  company. 


48  THE    MUSEUM. 


SINGULAR    ESCAPE    FROM    DEATH. 

DURING  the  French  Revolution  an  instance  of  escape 
after  condemnation  deserves  to  be  mentioned  here,  because 
the  fact  is  both  remarkable  and  well  attested.  A  numbei 
of  persons  were  returning  back  to  prison  after  sentence 
had  been  passed  upon  them,  that  they  were  to  be  guillo- 
tined the  next  morning.  They  were,  according  to  custom, 
tied  together  by  the  hands,  two  and  two,  and  were  escort- 
ed by  a  guard.  In  their  way  they  were  met  by  a  woman, 
who,  with  loud  cries,  reclaimed  her  husband,  asserting  that 
he  was  a  good  patriot,  and  had  been  unjustly  condemned ; 
and  that  she  could  bring  proofs  of  his  patriotism,  known  to 
all  the  world.  It  so  happened,  that  the  judge,  who  had 
condemned  the  prisoners,  passed  by  at  the  moment,  and, 
hearing  the  clamors  of  the  woman,  inquired  what  could 
occasion  them.  This  being  explained,  and  the  judge 
very  happily  being  in  a  more  merciful  humor  than  usual, 
said  that  a  good  patriot  must  not  be  executed,  and  if  the 
woman's  assertions  were  true,  it  was  very  right  that  her  hus- 
band should  be  released.  He  accordingly  ordered  the 
man  to  be  unbound  and  brought  to  him,  when  he  asked 
several  questions  respecting  his  patriotism,  and  what  he 
had  done  for  the  good  of  the  republic,  to  all  which  he  re- 
ceived answers  so  satisfactory,  that  he  declared  him  to  be 
a  good  sans-culotte,  -unjustly  condemned,  and  ordered  him 
to  be  set  at  liberty  on  the  spot. 

This  affair,  as  may  be  easily  imagined,  soon  drew  a  num- 
ber of  people  together,  so  that  the  prisoners  were  mingled 
promiscuously  with  the  multitude.  The  companion  with 
whom  the  man  had  been  yoked,  finding  himself  single,  and 
totally  unobserved,  the  eyes  and  attention  of  all  present 
being  now  otherwise  engaged,  thought  that  a  favorable 
opportunity  of  escape  was  presented  ;  thrusting,  therefore, 
the  hand  which  had  the  cord  round  it,  into  his  waistcoat, 
that  the  cord  might  not  be  seen  which  would  have  betrayed 
him,  he,  with  great  coolness  and  composure,  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  as  if  he  had  been  a  spectator  only, 
drawn  among  them  by  curiosity.  When  he  found  him- 
self at  liberty,  he  hastened  to  the  port,  which  was  not  far 


THEMUSETJM.  49 

off,  and  jumping  into  a  boat,  ordered  the  boatman  to  row 
in  all  haste  to  a  place,  which  he  named,  at  the  other  end 
of  the  port.  The  boatman  obeyed  ;  but  here  a  difficulty 
arose  which  had  not  immediately  occurred  to  the  fugitive, 
viz : — that  he  had  not  so  much  as  a  sous  in  his  pocket  to 
pay  his  fare ;  for  when  any  one  was  arrested,  whatever 
money  he  might  have  about  him,  or  any  thing  else  of 
value,  was  immediately  taken  away  as  confiscated  pro- 
perty. What  was  to  be  done  in  a  situation  so  embarass- 
ing  !  He  did  not  lose  his  presence  of  mind  ;  but,  feeling 
in  his  pockets,  said,  with  a  well-affected  surprise,  that  it 
was  very  unlucky,  but  he  had  forgotten  his  purse,  and  had 
not  any  money  with  him.  The  boatman  began  to  swear 
and  make  a  great  outcry,  saying  that  this  was  a  mere  ex- 
cuse, that  he  was  a  cheat,  and  wanted  to  make  him  work 
without  being  paid.  The  fugitive  then,  as  if  a  sudden 
recollection  had  struck  him,  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  drew  out  the  cord,  from  which  during  the  passage,  he 
had  contrived  to  disengage  it.  "  Here,  my  friend,"  said  he, 
"  take  this ;  I  by  no  means  wish  to  cheat  you  :  I  cannot 
tell  how  it  happened  that  I  have  come  out  without  money ; 
but  this  cord,  if  you  will  accept  it,  is  worth  more  than 
your  fare."  "  Oh,  yes,  yes,  take  it,  take  it,"  said  a  number 
of  other  boatmen  who  were  standing  by ;  "  the  citizen  is 
right,  the  cord  is  a  good  cord,  and  worth  triple  your  fare. 
I  don't  believe  he  meant  to  cheat ;  he  looks  like  an  honest 
citizen."  The  boatman  took  the  advice,  and  accepted 
the  cord ;  and  the  liberated  victim  walked  off  to  the 
house  of  a  friend  in  the  neighborhood,  where  he  remained 
concealed  the  rest  of  the  day.  When  night  came,  he 
made  his  escape  from  the  town,  his  friend  furnishing  him 
with  money  and  other  necessaries  for  his  journey ;  nor 
had  many  days  elapsed  before  he  was  safe  out  of  the 
republic. 

5 


50  THEMFSETJM. 

A    WIFE    FOLLOWED    BY    TWO    HUSBANDS    TO    THE    GRAVE. 

(Extract  from  a  letter,  dated  Colchester,  August  18,  1752.) 

PERHAPS  you  have  heard  that  a  chest  was  seized  by  the 
custom-house  officers,  which  was  landed  here  about  a 
fortnight  ago.  They  took  it  for  smuggled  goods,  though 
the  person  with  it  produced  the  King  of  France's  signa- 
ture to  Mr.  W as  a  Hamburgh  merchant.  Our  peo- 
ple, not  being  satisfied  with  the  account  which  Mr.  W 

gave,  opened  the  chest,  and  one  of  them  was  about  to 
thrust  his  hanger  into  it,  when  the  person  to  whom  it 
belonged  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword,  and  desired  him  to 
desist,  for  it  was  the  corpse  of  his  wife.  Not  content 
with  this,  the  officers  pulled  off  the  embalming,  and  found 
it  as  he  had  said.  The  man,  who  appeared  to  be  a  per- 
son of  consequence,  was  in  the  utmost  agony,  while  they 
made  a  spectacle  of  his  lady.  They  set  her  in  the  high 
church,  where  any  one  might  come  arid  look  at  her, 
and  would  not  suffer  him  to  bury  her  till  he  gave  a  further 
account  of  himself.  There  were  other  chests  of  fine 
clothes,  &c.,  belonging  to  the  deceased.  The  gentleman 
acknowledged  at  last  that  he  was  a  person  of  quality ; 
that  his  name  was  not  W ;  that  he  was  born  in  Flor- 
ence, and  the  lady  was  a  native  of  England,  whom  he 
married,  and  that  she  had  requested  of  him  to  be  buried 
in  Essex ;  that  he  had  brought  her  from  Verona,  in  Italy, 
to  France,  by  land,  there  hired  a  vessel  for  Dover,  dis- 
charged the  ship  at  that  port,  and  took  another  for  Har- 
wich, but  was  driven  here  by  contrary  winds.  This 
account  was  not  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  people  ;  he  must 
tell  her  name  and  condition,  in  order  to  clear  himself  from 
a  suspicion  of  murder.  He  was  continually  in  tears,  and 
had  a  key  to  the  vestry  where  he  daily  sat  with  the 
corpse.  My  brother  went  to  see  him  there,  and  the  scene 
so  shocked  him  that  he  could  not  bear  it,  he  said  it  was  so 
like  Romeo  and  Juliet.  He  was  much  pleased  with  my 
brother,  who  spoke  both  Latin  and  French ;  and  to  his 
great  surprise,  told  him  who  the  lady  was,  which  proving 
to  be  a  person  he  knew,  he  could  not  help  uncovering  her 
face.  In  short  the  gentleman  confessed  that  he  was  the 


THE    MUSEUM.  51 

Earl  of  R — 's  son  ;  (the  name  is  P — ;  and  the  title  Lord 
D — )  that  he  was  born  and  educated  in  Italy,  and  never 
was  in  England  till  two  or  three  years  ago,  when  he 
came  to  London,  and  was  in  company  with  this  lady, 
with  whom  he  fell  passionately  in  love,  and  prevailed 
upon  her  to  quit  the  kingdom  and  marry  him  ;  that  having 
had  bad  health,  he  had  travelled  with  her  all  over  Europe, 
and  when  she  was  dying,  she  asked  for  pen  and  paper, 

and  wrote : — "  I  am  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  G ,  in 

Essex  ;  my  maiden  name  was  K.  C.  My  last  request  is 

to  be  buried  at  Th ."  The  unhappy  gentleman  who 

last  married  her,  protests  he  never  knew  (till  this  con- 
fession on  her  death-bed)  that  she  was  another's  wife; 
but  in  compliance  with  her  desire,  he  brought  her  over, 
and  should  have  buried  her,  if  the  corpse  had  not  been 
stopped,  without  making  any  stir  about  it.  After  he  had 

made  this  confession,  they  sent  for  Mr.  G ,  who  put 

himself  into  a  violent  passion,  and  threatened  to  run  him 
through  the  body.  But  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  be  cairn ; 
it  was  represented  to  him  that  the  gentleman  had  been  at 
great  expense  and  trouble  to  fulfil  her  desire,  and  Mr. 

G consented  to  see  him.  The  meeting  was  very 

affecting,  and  they  addressed  each  other  civilly.  The 
stranger  avowed  that  his  affection  for  the  lady  was  so 
strong,  that  it  was  his  earnest  wish  not  only  to  attend  her 
to  the  grave,  but  to  be  shut  up  in  it  for  ever  with  her. 
Nothing  in  romance  ever  came  up  to  the  passion  of  this 
man. 

He  had  a  very  fine  coffin  made  for  her,  with  six  large 
silver  plates  over  it,  and  at  last  was  very  loth  to  part  with 
her,  to  have  her  buried.  He  put  on  the  most  solemn 
mourning,  and  on  Sunday  last  attended  the  corpse  to 

Th ,  where  Mr.  G met  it  in  solemn  mourning 

likewise. 

The  Florentine  is  a  man  of  genteel  figure,  and  seems 
about  twenty-five  years  of  age  ;  but  there  was  never  any 
thing  like  his  behavior  to  his  dear,  dear  wife,  for  so  he 
would  frequently  call  her  to  the  last.  Mr.  G attend- 
ed him  to  London  yesterday ;  they  were  civil  together,  but 
the  grief  of  the  stranger  was  not  to  be  mitigated  by  any 
remonstrance  or  consolation.  He  says  he  must  fly  from 


52  THEMUSEUM. 

England,  which  he  can  never  see  more.  I  have  had  thib 
account  from  many  hands,  and  can  assure  you  of  its 
authenticity.  K.  C.  is,  I  believe,  the  first  woman  in  Eng- 
land that  has  had  two  husbands  to  attend  her  to  the  grave 
together. 


DREADFUL    SUFFERINGS    OF    SIX    DESERTERS. 

THE  following  singular  and  affecting  narrative  of  the 
sufferings  attending  six  deserters  from  the  artillery  of  St. 
Helena,  was  related  before  a  Court  of  Inquiry,  on  oath, 
by  John  Brown,  one  of  the  survivors : 

In  June  1799, 1  belonged  to  the  first  company  of  artillery, 
in  the  service  of  the  garrison  ;  and  on  the  10th  of  that 
month,  about  half  an  hour  before  parade  time,  M'Kinnon, 
gunner,  and  orderly  of  the  second  company,  asked  me  if  I 
was  willing  to  go  with  him  on  board  of  an  American  ship 
called  the  Columbra,  Captain  Henry  Lelar,  the  only  ship 
then  in  the  Roads.  After  some  conversation  I  agreed, 
and  about  7  o'clock,  met  him  at  the  Playhouse,  where  I 
found  one  Mr.  Quinn  of  Major  Searle's  company  ;  another 
man  called  Brighouse,  another  called  Parr,  and  the  sixth 
Matthew  Conway.  Parr  was  a  good  seaman,  and  said  he 
would  take  us  to  the  Island  of  Ascension,  or  lay  off  the 
harbour  till  the  Columbra  could  weigh  anchor  and  come 
out.  Brighouse  and  Conway  proposed  to  cut  a  whale 
boat  from  out  of  the  harbor,  to  prevent  the  Columbra 
being  suspected  ;  which  they  effected,  having  therein  a  coil 
of  rope  and  five  oars,  with  a  large  stone  she  was  moored 
by :  this  happened  about  eleven  at  night.  We  observed 
lanterns  passing  on  the  line  towards  the  sea  gate,  and  hear- 
ing a  great  noise,  thought  we  were  missed  and  searched 
for.  We  immediately  embarked  in  the  whale  boat,  with 
about  twenty-five  pounds  of  bread  in  a  bag,  a  small  keg 
of  water,  supposed  to  contain  about  thirteen  gallons,  and 
a  compass  given  to  us  by  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
Columbra.  We  then  left  the  ship,  pulling  with  two  oars 
only  to  get  ahead  of  her ;  the  boat  was  half  full  of  water, 
and  nothing  to  bail  her  out.  In  this  condition  we  rowed 


THE    MUSEUM.  53 

out  to  sea,  and  lay  off  the  Island  a  great  distance,  expect- 
ing the  American  ship  hourly ;  about  twelve  o'clock,  the 
second  day,  no  ship  appearing,  by  Parr's  advice,  we  bore 
away,  steering  N.  by  W.  and  then  N.  N.  W.  for  the  Island 
of  Ascension,  using  our  handkerchiefs  as  substitutes  for  sails. 

We  continued  our  course  till  about  the  18th  in  the 
morning,  when  we  saw  a  number  of  birds,  but  no  land ; 
about  twelve  that  day  Parr  said  he  was  sure  that  we  must 
have  passed  the  Island,  accounting  it  must  be  800  miles 
from  St.  Helena.  We  then  each  of  us  took  our  shirts,  and 
with  them  made  a  small  spritsail,  and  laced  jackets  and 
trowsers  together  to  the  waistband  to  keep  us  warm,  and 
then  altered  our  course  to  W.  by  N.  thinking  to  make  Rio 
de  Janeiro,  on  the  American  coast.  Provisions  running 
very  short,  we  were  allowed  one  ounce  of  bread  for 
twenty-four  hours,  and  two  mouthfuls  of  water. 

We  continued  till  the  26th,  when  all  our  provisions  were 
expended.  On  the  27th,  Mr.  Quinn  took  a  piece  of  bam- 
boo in  his  mouth  to  chew,  and  we  all  followed  his  exam- 
ple. On  that  night,  it  being  my  turn  to  steer  the  boat,  and 
remembering  to  have  read  of  persons  in  our  situation  eat- 
ing their  shoes,  I  cut  a  piece  off  one  of  mine  ;  but  it  be- 
ing soaked  with  salt  water,  I  was  obliged  to  spit  it  out,  and 
take  the  inside  sole,  which  I  ate  part  of,  and  distributed 
to  the  rest,  but  found  no  benefit  from  it.  On  the  first  of 
July,  Parr  caught  a  dolphin  with  a  gaff  that  had  been  left 
in  the  boat.  We  all  fell  on  our  knees,  and  thanked  God 
for  his  goodness  to  us.  We  tore  up  the  fish,  and  hung  it 
to  dry ;  about  four  we  ate  part  of  it,  which  agreed  with 
us  pretty  well.  On  this  fish  we  subsisted  till  the  4th, 
about  eleven  o'clock  ;  when  finding  the  whole  expended, 
bones  and  all,  Parr,  myself,  Brighouse  and  Conway  pro- 
posed to  scuttle  the  boat  and  let  her  go  down,  and  put  us 
out  of  misery.  The  other  two  objected,  observing,  that 
God,  who  had  made  man,  always  found  something  to  eat. 
On  the  5th,  about  eleven,  M'Kinnon  proposed  that  it  would 
be  better  to  cast  lots  for  one  of  us  to  die,  in  order  to  save 
the  rest ;  to  which  we  consented.  The  lots  were  made, 
William  Parr,  being  sick  two  days  before  with  the  spotted 
fever,  was  excluded.  It  was  agreed  that  No.  5  should 
die,  and  the  lots  being  unfolded,  M'Kinnon  was  No.  5. 

5* 


64  THE    MTJSEUM. 

We  had  agreed  that  he  whose  lot  it  was  should  bleed  him- 
self to  death,  for  which  purpose  we  had  provided  ourselves 
with  nails  sharpened,  which  we  got  from  the  boat.  M'Kin- 
non,  with  one  of  them,  cut  himself  in  three  places ;  in  his 
foot,  hand  and  wrist,  and  praying  God  to  forgive  him,  died 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Before  he  was  quite  cold,  Brig- 
house,  with  one  of  those  nails,  cut  a  piece  of  flesh  off  his 
thigh,  and  hung  it  up,  leaving  his  body  in  the  boat ;  about 
three  hours  after  we  all  ate  of  it,  only  a  very  small  piece  : 
this  piece  lasted  us  till  the  7th.  We  dipped  the  body 
every  two  hours  into  the  sea,  to  preserve  it.  Parr  having 
found  a  piece  of  slate  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  sharpened 
it  on  the  large  stone,  and  with  it  cut  another  piece  off  the 
thigh,  which  lasted  us  till  the  8th ;  when  it  being  my  watch, 
and  observing  the  water,  about  break  of  day,  to  change 
color,  I  called  the  rest,  thinking  we  were  near  shore,  but 
saw  no  land,  it  not  being  quite  day-light.  As  soon  as  day 
appeared,  we  discovered  land  right  ahead,  and  steering 
towards  it,  about  eight  in  the  morning  we  were  close  to 
the  shore  :  there  being  a  very  heavy  surf,  we  endeavored 
to  turn  the  boat's  head  to  it,  but,  being  very  weak,  we  were 
unable.  Soon  after  the  boat  upset ;  myself,  Conway  and 
Parr  got  on  shore.  Mr.  Quinn  and  Brighouse  were  both 
drowned.  We  discovered  a  small  hut  on  the  beach,  in 
which  was  an  Indian  and  his  mother,  who  spoke  Portu- 
guese, and  I  understanding  that  language,  learnt  that  there 
was  a  village  about  three  miles  distant,  called  Belmont. 
This  Indian  went  to  the  village,  and  gave  information  that 
the  French  had  landed,  and  in  about  two  hours  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  village,  a  clergyman,  with  several  armed  men, 
took  Conway  and  Parr  prisoners,  tying  them  up  by  their 
hands  and  feet,  and  slinging  them  on  a  bamboo  stick,  and 
in  this  manner  took  them  to  the  village.  I  being  very 
weak,  remained  in  the  hut  some  time,  but  was  afterwards 
taken.  On  our  telling  them  we  were  English,  we  were 
immediately  released,  and  three  hammocks  provided.  We 
were  taken  in  them  to  the  governor's  house,  who  let  us  lay 
on  his  own  bed,  and  gave  us  milk  and  rice  to  eat ;  not 
having  eat  any  thing  for  a  considerable  time,  we  were 
lock-jawed,  and  continued  so  till  the  23d ;  during  which 
time  the  governor  wrote  to  the  governor  of  St.  Salvador 


THE    MUSEUM.  55 

who  sent  a  small  schooner  to  a  place  called  Port  Sequro, 
to  take  us  to  St.  Salvador.  We  continued  there  about 
thirteen  days,  during  which  time  the  inhabitants  made  up 
a  subscription  of  £200  for  each  man.  We  then  embarked 
in  the  Maria,  a  Portuguese  ship,  for  Lisbon,  Parr  as  mate, 
Conway  boatswain's  mate,  myself,  being  sickly,  a  passen- 
ger. In  thirteen  days  we  arrived  at  Rio  de  Janeiro.  I 
was  determined  to  give  myself  up  the  first  opportunity,  in 
order  to  relate  my  sufferings  to  the  men  of  this  garrison,  to 
deter  them  from  ever  attempting  so  mad  a  scheme. 


SINGULAR    ESCAPE    DURING    THE    REIGN    OF    TERROR. 

DURING  the  Reign  of  Terror  in  France,  a  man  in  the 
town  of  Marseilles  was  protected  from  the  fate  with  which 
he  was  menaced,  in  a  manner  totally  unlocked  for.  His 
name  being  on  the  list  of  the  proscribed,  a  party  of  the 
terrorists  came  to  his  house  to  seek  for  him.  They  found 
his  wife,  who  said  that  her  husband  was  not  at  home  ;  he 
had  been  absent  for  several  days,  and  she  knew  not  whith- 
er he  was  gone.  The  party,  however,  insisted  on  search- 
ing the  house,  which  they  did,  without  finding  the  man. 
They  then  quitted  it,  and  went  to  make  some  other  visits 
with  which  they  were  charged.  One  of  the  party  return- 
ed very  soon,  and  finding  the  house-door  open,  went  in. 
He  looked  about,  but  saw  no  one  ;  and  then  hastening  up 
stairs  to  a  room  on  the  first  floor,  he  knocked  at  the  panel 
of  a  wainscot,  and  said,  "  open,  open  quickly."  The  panel 
was  accordingly  opened,  and  a  double  barreled  pistol  dis- 
charged at  the  same  moment  from  within,  but  happily  it 
did  no  injury  to  the  person  on  the  outside ;  the  master  of 
the  house,  at  the  same  time,  came  forth  from  his  hiding 
place.  "  Now,"  cried  his  visitor,  "  I  came  to  save  you, and 
you  would  kill  me."  Then  addressing  himself  to  the  wife, 
whom  the  report  of  the  pistol  had  brought  thither  in  an 
instant — "  Hear  me,  madam,"  said  he,  "  I  have  associated 
myself  with  those  men  who  were  recently  here,  only  that 
I  may  save  my  fellow  citizens  as  much  as  lies  in  my  pow- 
er. As  we  were  searchiug  your  house,  I  observed  a  strong 


56  THE    MUSEUM. 

emotion  in  your  countenance,  and  a  tremor  in  all  your 
frame,  as  we  passed  this  spot,  and  I  had  no  doubt,  there- 
fore, that  your  husband  was  concealed  within.  This  oc- 
casioned my  speedy  return,  to  warn  you  that  your  good 
man  is  not  in  safety  as  long  as  he  remains  in  this  house,  or 
even  in  the  town.  It  is  not  doubted  but  that  he  is  here; 
and  you  will  never  cease  to  be  troubled  with  like  visits  till 
he  shall  be  found.  I  will,  however,  engage  to  procure  you 
the  means  of  escape,"  added  he,  turning  to  the  man,  "  if 
you  dare  confide  in  me."  This  was  not  a  situation  in 
which  to  hesitate  on  accepting  such  an  offer,  and  with 
tears  and  thanks  it  was  embraced  both  by  the  husband  and 
wile.  It  was  now  dusk,  and  the  benevolent  visitor  said 
he  would  return  in  about  half  an  hour,  and  take  the  man 
with  him  to  his  own  house,  where  he  might  remain  in  per- 
fect security  till  means  could  be  found  for  him  to  quit  the 
town.  This  was  accordingly  done,  and  a  few  nights  after, 
he  was  consigned  to  a  Genoese  vessel,  which  carried  him 
in  safety  out  of  the  republic. — Miss  Plumptre. 


MOST    REMARKABLE    SUICIDE. 

THIS  singular  account  was  published  some  years  ago  by 
a  German  author,  who  asserts  the  authenticity  of  it.  In  a 
coffee  house,  in  a  city  of  Livonia,  a  man  one  day  made  the 
following  proposition :  "  I  am  tired  of  my  life,  and  if  any 
body  would  be  of  my  party,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  quit 
this  world."  Nobody  answering  him,  he  said  no  more  ; 
but,  after  some  time,  all  the  company  having  left  the  room, 
except  two  persons,  these  carne  up  to  him,  and  asked  him 
if  he  were  really  serious  in  the  proposition  which  he  had 
made  ?  "  Yes,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  in  a  determined  tone 
of  voice,  "  I  never  speak  without  due  reflection,  and  I 
never  retract  what  I  have  advanced."  "  Then  we  will  be 
of  your  party,  for  we  have  formed  the  same  design." 
"  Why  so,  gentlemen  ?  My  actions  are  always  determined 
by  an  adequate  motive,  and  I  am  incapable  of  urging  a 
man  to  adhere  to  such  a  resolution  as  this,  unless  his  mis- 
fortunes be  such  as  to  render  life  insupportable  to  him." 


HE    MUSEUM.  57 

"  We  are  loaded  with  debts,  without  the  means  of  dis- 
charging them.  We  are  unable  to  live  any  longer  with 
honor,  and  we  are  incapable  of  having  recourse  to  base 
and  dishonorable  means.  Those  whose  hopes  will  be  dis- 
appointed by  our  death,  have  already  received  much  more 
than  they  were  legally  entitled  to." 

"  I  had  one  day,"  said  one  of  them,  "  the  good  luck  to 
break  a  considerable  bank  at  Spa.  I  was  immediately 
surrounded  with  sharpers,  who  proposed  to  play  with  me. 
I  lost  all  my  winnings  in  a  few  deals,  and  much  more.  I 
gave  a  note  for  the  surplus  which  I  cannot  take  up." 

"  I,"  said  the  other,  "  had  a  commission  in  the  army.  I 
had  given  proofs  of  courage,  and  had  merited  promotion, 
in  order  to  obtain  which  I  contracted  some  debts.  But  a 
young  nobleman,  who  had  never  been  in  action,  having 
been  advanced  over  my  head,  I  gave  in  my  resignation, 
without  reflecting,  until  it  was  too  late,  that  I  had  no  other 
resource  in  the  world.  The  number  of  my  creditors  has 
increased,  and  I  have  now  no  credit  with  any  one.  I  know 
my  inability  to  fulfil  my  engagements,  and,  determined  to 
impose  on  no  man,  I  am  compelled  to  put  an  end  to  my 
existence." 

"  Gentlemen,"  replied  the  man  who  had  given  rise  to 
this  conversation, "  I  admire  your  principles,  your  resolution, 
and  your  firmness.  If,  however,  I  possessed  the  means 
of  removing  the  ground  of  your  despair,  I  should  feel  hap- 
py in  making  you  renounce  your  noble  project ;  but  all 
that  I  have  left  will  barely  suffice  to  pay  for  a  supper,  if 
you  will  accept  one  ;  and  at  the  last  bottle  we  will  immor- 
talize ourselves."  "  Bravo !"  exclaimed  the  others,  "  this 
is  admirable." 

The  day  was  fixed,  and  an  excellent  supper  was  order- 
ed. The  table  was  covered  with  dainties,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  the  best  wines.  A  strong  dose  of  arsenic  was 
put  in  one  bottle,  which  was  to  be  drunk  at  last.  While 
these  preparations  were  making,  the  two  debtors  repaired 
to  a  neighboring  house  of  ill-fame,  where  they  met  with 
another  man,  who  had  come  thither  to  console  himself  in 
the  arms  of  venal  beauty,  for  the  rigor  which  he  experi- 
enced from  a  lady  to  whom  he  paid  his  addresses.  But 
this  den  of  corruption  only  filled  him  with  disgust  and  hor- 


58  THE    MUSEUM. 

ror.  He  bacame  gloomy  and  melancholy.  When  in  this 
humor,  he  was  addressed  by  the  other  two  persons,  who, 
after  some  conversation,  informed  him  of  their  design.  He 
seemed  to  relish  it,  and  to  be  disposed  to  make  a  fourth 
in  the  party.  In  the  state  of  mind  in  which  he  then  was, 
the  task  of  persuasion  was  easy  ;  they  blinded  his  judg- 
ment by  their  sophistry,  and  he  accompanied  them  to  the 
place. 

The  person  who  was  to  pay  for  the  supper,  expecting 
only  two  guests,  was  surprised  at  seeing  a  third.  He 
inquired  into  the  motives  which  had  influenced  the  deter- 
mination of  his  new  colleague,  and,  being  satisfied  with 
them,  they  all  sat  down  to  table.  The  original  proposer 
of  the  plan  was  in  a  very  good  humor,  and  made  a  long 
speech  on  the  resolution  which  he  had  formed.  "  I  have," 
said  he,  "seen  so  much  of  human  life,  that  I  suspect  there 
is  little  more  for  me  to  see.  Every  thing  tends  to  con- 
vince me  that  man  is  a  very  poor  creature,  and  that  he 
can  only  be  happy  by  contributing  to  the  happiness  of 
others.  One  person  may  do  this  in  one  way,  another  in 
another,  but  I  could  only  do  it  with  my  fortune  ;  and  I 
accordingly  employed  it  for  that  purpose  in  the  best  man- 
ner I  could.  If  any  one  proved  to  me,  in  a  plausible 
way,  that  a  certain  sum  would  make  him  happy,  I  gave  it 
him.  The  consequence  was,  that  my  fortune  was  spent ; 
and  I  am  now  ruined  and  wholly  unable  to  render  a  ser- 
vice to  any  man.  It  would  be  impossible,  indeed,  to 
subsist  by  my  labor,  for  I  should  infallibly  sink  under  such 
a  mode  of  life ;  and  besides,  I  cannot  believe  that  any 
man  ought  to  exist  for  himself  alone." 

The  last  of  our  heroes  here  interrupted  the  philosopher. 
"  This  is  the  very  point  on  which  I  must  contradict  you. 
If  man  did  not  exist  for  himself,  as  you  suppose,  and  you 
have  proved  by  your  life  that  such  is  your  opinion,  I  cer 
tainly  ought  to  continue  to  live.  But  I,  who  am  of  a  dif- 
ferent opinion,  and  who  have  lived  only  for  myself,  finding 
no  more  pleasure  in  life,  am  resolved  to  quit  it." 

"Everyman,  my  friend,"  replied  the  first,  "has  his  own 
mode  of  thinking  on  this  subject,  and  acts  accordingly. 
There  can  be  no  wish,  then,  to  make  proselytes.  You 
will  die  in  pursuance  of  your  own  system,  and  I  in  pur- 


THE    MUSEUM.  59 

suance  of  mine."  Much  more  conversation  ensued  on  the 
fragility  of  life ;  many  traits,  ancient  and  modern,  were 
cited  in  favor  of  suicide ;  and  during  this  discussion  the 
young  candidate  remained  pensive.  The  bottle  was  freely 
circulated,  and  a  thousand  reasons  were  urged,  each 
exceeding  the  other  in  absurdity.  They  took  the  last 
bottle  but  one,  which  they  drank  with  firmness,  to  a  happy 
meeting,  and  without  betraying  the  smallest  symptoms  of 
irresolution.  At  length  they  came  to  the  last  bottle.  The 
philosopher  took  it,  saying,  "  in  this  reposes  the  immortality 
which  we  shall  still  enjoy.  It  is  the  precious  panacea 
which  makes  the  wretched  forget  their  cares,  arid  cures 
the  rich  man's  pains.  It  reminds  us  that  we  are  free ; 
it  is  liberty  to  the  slave,  gold  to  the  poor,  tranquillity  to 
the  restless,  and  happiness  to  the  miserable." 

He  divided  the  bottle  into  four  equal  parts;  then  taking 
his  glass  in  his  hand,  said,  "  I  die  tranquil  and  contented. 
Heaven  gave  me  wealth  to  distribute,  and  I  distributed  it 
as  well  as  I  could.  I  came  into  the  world  to  live  among 
men,  and  for  them  ;  not  having  the  ability  to  be  any  longer 
of  use  to  them,  I  take  my  leave.  I  am  induced  to  adopt 
this  measure  from  the  despair  into  which  I  should  be 
plunged,  if  any  one  of  the  unfortunate  beings  whom  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  relieve,  were  to  come  and 
implore  that  assistance  which  I  am  unable  to  afford  him. 
I  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  future  life,  and  I  hope  to 
pass  from  this  world  into  another,  where  I  shall  be  able 
to  do  more  good."  After  this  exposition  of  his  philosophy, 
he  emptied  the  glass  to  the  very  last  drop. 

The  other  two  then  took  their  glasses.  "  We  have  no 
occasion,"  said  they,  "  for  such  profound  reasoning.  We 
expect  to  be  visited  to-morrow  by  the  same  number  of 
creditors  who  besieged  us  this  morning,  and  of  whom  we 
had  considerable  difficulty  to  rid  ourselves.  What  reason 
can  be  assigned  to  prevent  us  from  withdrawing  ourselves 
from  such  persecution  ?  We  believe  in  predestination, 
and  it  was  our  destiny  that  we  should  finish  our  days 
here."  They  both  emptied  their  glasses  without  hesi- 
tation. 

It  now  came  to  the  turn  of  the  fourth,  who  took  his 
glass  in  his  hand,  held  it  up  to  the  candle,  then  putting  it 


'50  THE    MUSEUM. 

down  on  the  table,  said,  "  You  have  done  me  the  honor, 
gentlemen,  to  admit  me  into  your  company,  and  I  thank 
you  for  it.  By  your  observations  I  have  acquired  a  know- 
ledge of  death  which  I  did  not  possess  before.  I  was  led 
to  wish  for  it  by  some  painful  occurrences,  and  a  deep 
melancholy  consequent  thereupon.  I  know  now  the  mad- 
ness of  such  a  wish.  It  was  not  death  that  I  should  have 
desired,  but  sufficient  firmness  to  die.  My  wish  is  accom- 
plished ;  you,  gentlemen,  have  given  me  that  sublime 
lesson.  I  shall  not  censure  the  motives  which  have  en- 
gaged you  to  quit  the  world  ;  on  such  a  topic  every  man 
must  judge  for  himself.  But.  my  situation  is  absolutely  dif- 
ferent from  yours.  I  owe  nothing  to  any  man.  I  must, 
therefore,  have  some  other  reasons  for  taking  this  bever- 
age, which  you  are  pleased  to  call  immortality,  and  which 
shines  with  such  brilliancy  in  this  glass.  The  sophisms  of 
that  gentleman  had  rather  disconcerted  me,  and,  in  the 
state  of  my  mind  at  that  time,  I  yielded  to  his  opinion ; 
but  reflection  has  come  to  my  aid.  I  have  a  considerable 
fortune,  and  two  profligate  brothers,  who  wish  for  my 
death,  that  they  might  squander  it  in  the  most  scandalous 
manner." 

Here  the  poison  beginning  to  operate,  one  of  the  debtors, 
with  distorted  features,  begged  him  to  finish  his  speech, 
because  it  would  be  too  cruel  for  him  to  survive  them, 
and  suffer  alone.  "  I  have  little  more,"  added  the  other, 
"  to  say  :  J  have  never  before  seen  a  man  in  his  last  mo- 
ments. You  have  now  afforded  me  the  opportunity,  and 
I  confess  to  you,  gentlemen,  that  the  kind  of  death  which 
you  have  chosen  only  fills  me  with  horror.  The  very 
sight  of  you  makes  me  shudder.  It  was  only  in  a  moment 
of  madness,  that  I  could  give  my  approbation  to  your  pro- 
ject, and  consent  to  follow  your  example.  If  I  am  so  for- 
tunate as  to  open  my  eyes  in  time,  do  you  be  still  so  wise 
as  not  to  accuse  me  of  cowardice,  and  accept  my  excuses 
for  having  so  inconsiderately  consented  to  make  a  fourth. 
May  the  pleasing  hopes  which  you  have  formed  be  real- 
ized. May  you  be  happier  in  the  next  world  than  you 
have  been  in  this."  He  then  rose  to  leave  the  room. 
"  But,"  exclaimed  the  others,  "  did  you  not  promise  upon 
your  honor,  to  do  as  we  did  ?"  "  True,  gentlemen,  but 


THE    MUSEUM.  61 

you  should  congratulate  yourselves  on  my  conversion. 
Applaud  yourselves  for  that  return  to  my  senses  which 
your  dreadful  example  has  occasioned."  He  cast  a  last 
look  of  pity  upon  them.  They  all  endeavored  to  follow 
him,  but  could  not.  "  I  left  them,"  said  he  to  the  writer  ; 
"  the  third,  who  was  nearer  to  his  end  than  the  two  others 
and  who  had  proposed  the  scheme,  testified  his  approba- 
tion of  my  conduct,  by  an  inclination  of  his  head." 


THE    FAITHFUL    SURGEON. 

• 

JOHN  FREDERICK  WEISSE,  born  at  Kalbe,  in  the  duchy 
of  Wurtemberg,  was  one  of  those  meritorious  characters 
whom  the  Elector  of  Saxony — afterward  King  of  Poland, 
under  the  name  of  Augustus  I. — honored  with  distinguish- 
ed favor.  He  had  been  employed  for  five  years  as  sur- 
geon, at  the  expense  of  the  king,  in  foreign  hospitals ;  and 
the  famous  Petit,  a  French  surgeon,  was  his  first  master. 
When  he  returned  to  the  court  of  his  sovereign,  he  found 
from  him  the  most  honorable  reception ;  but  as  he  had 
too  much  merit  for  any  thing  to  be  wanting  to  his  glory, 
he  likewise  found  in  all  his  first  physicians  as  many  adver- 
saries ;  in  a  word,  his  advice  was  seldom  followed. 

An  accident  in  one  of  his  toes,  which  was  at  first  but 
very  slight,  had  tormented  the  king  for  a  considerable 
time ;  and  having  been  neglected,  had  produced  very 
alarming  symptoms.  A  consultation  of  the  first  physicians 
being  held,  Weisse  attended  as  the  surgeon,  and  declared 
for  the  immediate  amputation  of  the  toe.  This  advice, 
however,  coming  from  him,  the  physicians  wanted  no  other 
reason  for  rejecting  it.  The  majority  of  votes,  uninfluenced 
by  reason,  prevailed.  It  was  determined,  however,  that  a 
courier  should  be  despatched  to  Monsieur  Petit,  at  Paris, 
to  desire  his  immediate  attendance  at  Bialastock,  a  castle 
belonging  to  Prince  Czartorinski,  where  the  king  then  was. 

Whatever  despatch  could  be  employed  to  accelerate 
the  arrival  of  Monsieur  Petit  from  Paris,  such  a  great  dis- 
tance had  all  the  inconveniences  of  a  long  delay ;  and 
Weisse,  who  was  faithfully  attached  to  the  king,  was  soon 

6 


62  THE    MUSEUM. 

convinced  that  with  measures  so  ill-judged,  the  life  of  his 
royal  master  was  in  the  greatest  danger. 

After  some  hours  of  painful  anxiety  and  irresolution,  he 
at  length  resolved  upon  an  action,  which,  whatever  was 
the  purity  of  his  motives,  might  possibly  involve  him  in  the 
most  dangerous  consequences. 

The  very  night  that  followed  the  consultation,  Weisse 
sat  up  near  the  bed  of  his  sovereign,  with  a  valet-de- 
chambre,  who  was  likewise  a  very  extraordinary  man  of 
the  court  of  Augustus.  He  was  a  baptized  Cossack, 
named  Peter  Augustus,  because  the  Czar  Peter  and  King 
Augustus  had  been  his  godfathers.  No  person  could  be 
more  zealously  devoted  to  the  king ;  but  at  the  same  time 
there  is  not  a  French  comedy  in  which  the  valet  speaks  to 
his  master  with  so  much  insolence,  as  did  the  good  Cos- 
sack to  the  king ;  who,  with  the  utmost  good  humor,  re- 
ceived from  him  some  pretty  serious  reprimands. 

A  dose  of  opium,  which  the  faithful  surgeon  had  ad- 
ministered to  the  king,  was  to  throw  him  into  a  very  deep 
sleep.  Scarcely  had  this  taken  some  effect,  than  Weisse 
locked  the  door  of  the  chamber,  and  softly  approaching 
the  bed,  drew  from  his  pocket  a  number  of  instruments. 

The  valet-de-chambre,  astonished  at  these  preparations, 
and  whose  fidelity  neither  presents  nor  menaces  could 
have  shaken,  listened  to  the  surgeon's  reasons,  and  was 
silent  from  conviction. 

Weisse  took  the  ailing  foot,  drew  it  to  a  chair  on  the 
side  of  the  bed,  and  assured  the  king,  who  was  quite  over- 
come by  drowsiness,  and  who  complained  of  such  unsea- 
sonable dressing,  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  sleep 
quietly  ;  and  that  he  had  corne  to  take  the  necessary  pre- 
cautions, that  he  might  be  disturbed  no  more  the  whole 
night. 

Augustus  believed  this  declaration,  and  the  surgeon  for- 
bore to  touch  him  again  till  he  was  quite  asleep  ;  and  soon 
after,  with  equal  resolution  and  dexterity,  he  amputated 
the  toe. 

Awakened  by  the  pain,  the  king  angrily  demanded  again, 
why  he  took  such  an  unseasonable  time  to  dress  him.  Weisse 
once  more  appeased  him  by  saying,  that,  unfortunately,  he 
had  just  touched  the  wound  with  his  needle,  at  the  instant 


THE    MUSEUM.  63 

that  his  majesty  had  waked  for  the  first  time,  and  that  it 
was  the  balsam  which  he  had  applied  to  the  toe,  that 
caused  the  pain.  The  king  said  no  more,  and,  by  the 
force  of  the  opium,  soon  slept  again. 

Augustus  slept  profoundly  the  whole  night :  and  when 
he  awoke,  feeling  the  most  exquisite  pain  in  his  foot,  he 
was  far,  however,  from  suspecting  the  cause  of  it :  but  he 
ordered  his  foot  to  be  immediately  dressed  ;  and,  by  an 
impulse  of  curiosity,  which  Weisse  did  not  expect,  he  com- 
manded his  valet-de-chambre  to  place  a  magnifying  glass 
upon  the  bed,  the  better  to  observe  the  bad  toe,  which  had 
been  the  cause  of  so  much  suffering. 

It  may  well  be  thought,  that  the  valet-de-chambre,  and 
especially  the  surgeon,  must  feel  a  sudden  palpitation  of 
heart ;  and  the  astonishment  of  the  king  too,  may  be  easily 
imagined,  who  perceived  at  the  first  glance,  that  his  toe 
had  been  amputated. 

"  Who  did  this  ?"  inquired  the  king,  with  a  tone  of  an- 
guish and  indignation,  that  would  have  made  the  most 
courageous  tremble. 

"  I,  Sire,"  answered  the  surgeon,  certain  of  the  goodness 
of  his  case  :  then  drawing  the  toe  from  his  pocket,  he  added, 
"  and  here,  Sire,  it  is." 

AUGUSTUS. 

Presumptuous  man  !  How  durst  you  do  it  unknown  to 
me,  and  contrary  to  my  orders  ? 

WEISSE. 

Pardon  me,  Sire.  A  faithful  and  grateful  subject,  who 
sees  you  in  the  most  imminent  danger,  hazards  every  thing 
in  order  to  preserve  your  precious  life.  If  the  advice  of 
your  first  physicians  had  been  followed  :  if  I  had  delayed 
amputation  till  the  distant  arrival  of  Monsieur  Petit,  the 
mortification  would  have  certainly  extended  to  your  foot ; 
and  neither  my  utmost  zeal,  nor  any  human  assistance, 
could  have  done  any  thing  more  for  your  majesty. 

AUGUSTUS. 

And  was  there  no  other  method  than  amputation  ? 

WEISSE. 

No :  there  was  no  other.  Petit  will  say  the  same :  I  will 
answer  for  it  with  my  head. 


64  THE     MUSEUM. 

AUGUSTUS,  (in  a  milder  tone.) 
Who  was  present  at.  the  operation  ? 

WEISSE. 
Your  majesty's  valet-de-chambre. 

AUGUSTUS. 

Very  well :  observe  both  of  you  then,  till  farther  orders, 
the  most  inviolable  secrecy.  And  then — (he  takes  his  gold 
snuff  box,  throws  away  the  snuff,  and  puts  therein  the 
amputated  toe)  receive  this  in  the  mean  time  as  a  remem- 
brance. 

The  strictest  secrecy  was  observed,  and  not  a  person  in 
the  court  tiad  the  least  suspicion  of  what  had  passed. 
Twelve  days  after,  arrived  Petit.  The  physicians  are  in- 
stantly assembled  ;  they  describe  the  situation  in  which 
they  had  found  the  king  when  they  sent  for  him,  and 
awkwardly  enough  the  situation  in  which  they  suppose 
him  to  be  at  present.  The  French  surgeon,  struck  with 
astonishment,  and  certain  of  the  mortification,  from  the 
symptoms  which  had  been  observed  so  many  days,  ex- 
claimed, that  he  could  not  conceive  how  the  king  was  still 
alive,  and  why,  in  such  an  emergency,  that  admitted  not  a 
moment's  delay,  they  had  sent  to  such  a  distance  for  use- 
less advice.  He  added,  that  no  other  means  could  now 
be  thought  of  but  the  most  immediate  amputation,  if,  in- 
deed, there  were  still  time  for  it. 

Not  one  of  the  enemies  of  Weisse,  overwhelmed  with 
shame,  could  now  meet  the  king's  looks ;  but  how  much 
greater  was  their  confusion  and  surprise,  when  Weisse 
went  to  Petit,  and  taking  the  king's  snuff  box  from  his 
pocket,  said  to  him,  "  The  method,  sir,  which  you  recom- 
mend, has  been  already  hazarded :  here  is  the  toe  with  all 
the  symptoms  of  an  incurable  mortification." 

The  just  praises  of  the  French  surgeon,  his  repeated  as- 
surances that  his  majesty  was  under  the  most  skillful  hands, 
and  that,  being  attended  by  a  pupil  who  had  excelled  his 
master,  he  had  no  farther  occasion  for  his  advice,  crowned 
the  merit  of  a  faithful  subject,  whom  the  king  did  not  fail 
to  reward  with  truly  royal  munificence. 


THE    MUSEUM.  05 


A    LIVING    APPARITION. 

A  CHIEF,  whose  large  estates  were  forfeited  in  the  re- 
bellion of  1715,  received  at  St.  Germains,  from  the  confi- 
dential agent  of  a  powerful  nobleman,  intelligence  that  his 
Grace  had  obtained  a  grant  of  the  lands  from  Government, 
and  would  make  them  over  to  the  young  heir,  on  condi- 
tion of  paying  feu-duty,  and  a  sum  in  ready  cash  much 
less  than  the  value  of  the  domains.  To  restore  his  here- 
ditary estate  to  the  heir,  and  to  ensure  a  respectable  pro- 
vision for  his  lady  and  ten  young  children,  the  chieftain 
would  have  laid  down  his  life  with  alacrity.  He  made 
every  possible  exertion ;  his  friends,  and  even  the  exiled 
Prince,  contributed  in  raising  the  amount  demanded.  He 
was  known  to  be  a  man  of  scrupulous  honor ;  and  when 
the  family  regained  this  estate,  they  relied  upon  the  lady 
making  remittances,  to  pay  the  loan  by  instalments.  Se- 
curely to  convey  the  ransom  of  his  late  property,  the  chief- 
tain resolved  to  hazard  liberty  and  life,  by  venturing  to  the 
kingdom  from  whence  he  was  expatriated.  He  found 
means  to  appoint  at  Edinburgh  a  meeting  with  his  lady, 
directing  her  to  lodge  at  the  house  of  a  clansman,  in  the 
Lukenbooths.  On  arriving  there,  she  would  easily  com- 
prehend why  he  recommended  a  retreat  so  poor.  The 
lady  set  out  on  horseback  unattended,  leaving  her  chil- 
dren to  the  care  of  her  mother-in-law :  in  those  times  such 
a  journey  was  more  formidable  than  now  appears  an  over- 
land progress  to  India.  To  the  lady  it  would  have  cost 
many  fears,  even  if  her  palfrey  was  surrounded  by  running 
footmen,  as  formerly,  when  feudal  state  pertained  to  her 
husband  ;  but  she  would  not  place  in  competition  with  his 
safety,  an  exemption  from  danger  or  discomfort  to  herself. 
He  had  by  two  days  preceded  her  at  Edinburgh,  and 
bore  the  disguise  of  an  aged  mendicant,  deaf  and  dumb. 
His  statue  above  the  common  height,  and  majestic  mien, 
were  humbled  by  the  semblance  of  bending  under  a  load 
of  years  and  infirmity:  his  raven  locks,  and  even  his  eye- 
brows, were  shaven :  his  head  was  enveloped  by  an  old 
grisly  wig  and  tattered  night-cap  ;  the  remnant  of  a  hand- 
kerchief over  his  chin  hid  the  sable  beard,  which  to  elude 

6« 


66  THE    MUSEUM. 

detection  was  further  covered  by  a  plaster.  His  garments 
corresponded  to  his  squalid  head-gear.  Oh  !  how  unlike 
the  martial  leader  of  devoted  bands,  from  whom  she  parted 
in  agonies  of  anxiety  not  unrelieved  by  hope.  A  daughter 
of  this  affectionate  pair  attempted  to  give  the  writer  some 
idea  of  their  meeting,  as  related  by  her  mother,  after  she 
became  a  widow ;  but  language  vainly  labors  to  describe 
transporting  joy,  soon  chastened  by  sorrow  and  alarm. 

We  leave  to  imagination  and  feeling  a  scene  most  ex- 
quisitely agitating  and  pathetic.  The  chieftain  explained 
his  motive  for  asking  the  lady  to  make  her  abode  in  a 
clansman's  house.  Besides  his  tried  fidelity,  the  old  tene- 
ment contained  a  secret  passage  for  escape,  in  case  of 
need ;  and  he  showed  her  behind  a  screen  hung  with  wet 
linens,  a  door  in  the  paneling,  the  hinges  of  which  were  so 
oiled  that  he  could  glide  away  with  noiseless  movement. 
If  it  was  his  misfortune  to  be  under  such  necessity,  the  lady 
must  seem  to  faint,  and  throw  the  screen  against  the  pan- 
els, while  he  secured  the  bolt  on  which  depended  his  eva- 
sion, and  the  clansman  had  exhausted  his  skill  without 
being  able  to  cure  the  creaking  it  occasioned.  The  chief- 
tain gave  his  cash  to  the  lady,  urging  her  not  to  delay 
paying  the  amount  to  his  Grace's  confidential  agent.  She 
complied,  but  checked  all  inquiry  how  the  money  came  to 
her  hands.  The  rights  of  the  estate  were  restored  to  her. 
and  three  gentlemen  of  high  respectability  affixed  their 
signatures  to  a  bond,  promising  for  the  young  chief,  that 
whenever  he  came  of  age  he  would  bind  himself  and  his 
heirs  to  pay  the  fue-duty.  The  records  were  duly  depo- 
sited in  a  public  office,  and  the  lady  hastened  back  to  her 
lodgings.  The  cheiftain  soon  issued  from  behind  the 
screen,  and  the  lady  was  minutely  detailing  how  her  busi- 
ness had  been  settled,  when  stealthy  steps  in  the  passage 
warned  the  proscribed  to  disappear,  and  the  lady,  sinking 
to  the  ground,  dashed  the  screen  against  the  paneling. 
The  common  door  was  locked  ;  but  it  was  soon  burst 
open  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  led  by  an  officer.  The  lady's 
swoon  was  now  no  counterfeit.  A  surgeon  was  called  ; 
she  revived,  and  being  interrogated,  replied,  no  human  be- 
ing was  with  her.  The  officer  assured  her,  that  he  and 
several  of  the  soldiers  saw  through  a  clink  in  the  door 


THE    MUSEUM.  07 

and  the  old  man  in  close  conversation  with  her.  She  then 
confessed  that  an  apparition  had  endeavored  to  persuade 
her  he  was  commissioned  to  impart  tidings  of  her  hus- 
band, but  the  soldiers  interrupted  them  before  the  spirit 
could  deliver  the  subject  of  his  mission.  Every  part  of 
the  house  had  been  searched  while  the  lady  lay  insensible, 
and  as  no  discovery  ensued,  the  tale  she  related  passed 
current  at  Edinburgh,  and  spread  over  the  lowlands  and 
highlands.  It  was  not  until  the  lady  had  a  certainty  of 
her  husband's  decease  in  a  foreign  land,  that  she  had  told 
her  daughter  how  successfully  she  had  imposed  on  their 
enemies ;  and  surely  no  story  of  an  apparition  has  been 
seemingly  better  attested. 


ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  INDIANS. 

THE  celebrated  Colonel  Boon  was  taken  prisoner  in 
1778,  by  the  Indians,  and  although  ever  watchful  for  an 
opportunity  of  escape,  considered  the  attempt  too  hazard- 
ous, until  roused  by  the  dangers  which  threatened  the 
early  settlers  of  Kentucky.  He  discovered  that  five 
hundred  warriors,  under  the  command  of  some  Cana- 
dian officers,  had  been  embodied  for  the  purpose  of  at- 
tacking Boonsborough.  Taking  advantage  of  the  priv- 
ilege allowed  him  from  his  skill  in  hunting,  he,  under 
pretence  of  killing  a  deer,  boldly  turned  his  course  to- 
wards the  settlement,  and  traveled  incessantly,  day  and 
night,  about  two  hundred  miles,  until  he  arrived  at  the 
stockade,  or  station,  named  in  honor  of  himself. 

Mr.  Smith  was,  at  this  time,  commandant  of  the  little 
colony.  His  rank  as  Major  in  the  militia  of  Virginia, 
and  his  personal  qualifications,  occasioned  him  to  be 
chosen  leader  of  the  small  band  of  heroic  settlers,  who, 
with  the  assistance  of  Colonel  Boon,  signalized  them- 
selves in  the  memorable  defense  of  that  place.  We 
mean  not  to  dwell  upon  the  bravery  of  their  conduct. 
Who,  among  Americans,  could  act  otherwise  than  brave- 
ly, when  defending  their  wives,  their  sisters,  or  their 
children  ?  Major  Smith  had  another,  not  less  powerful 


63  THE    MUSEUM. 

motive,  to  stimulate  his  natural  courage.  The  tender 
feelings  of  love  had  kindled  into  a  flame,  and  made  every 
emotion  of  his  heart  burn  with  a  desire  to  distinguish 
himself  in  defense  of  the  object  of  his  affection,  who, 
with  her  parents,  had,  some  time  previous,  sought  an  asy- 
lum in  the  fort. 

The  Indians  invested  the  stockade  before  the  garrison 
had  completed  the  digging  of  a  well,  which  they  had 
commenced  on  receiving  information  of  the  intended  at- 
tack. Delay  was  absolutely  necessary  to  complete  this 
important  object,  as  their  numbers  were  too  small  to  per- 
mit its  being  accomplished,  when  employed  in  self-de- 
fense. They,  consequently,  entered  into  a  deceptive  ne- 
gotiation for  the  surrender  of  the  fort,  which  circum- 
stance, fortunately,  gave  them  time  to  complete  their  un- 
dertaking. Major  Smith,  who,  with  some  others  of  the 
garrison,  had  engaged  to  meet  an  equal  number  of  the 
enemy  at  a  spring,  within  pistol  shot  of  the  station,  for 
the  purpose  of  arranging  terms  of  capitulation,  anticipa- 
ted the  usual  treachery  of  the  savages,  and  placed  a 
number  of  his  men  on  the  side  opposite  the  place  of  ren- 
dezvous, with  strict  orders  to  fire  indiscriminately  on  the 
party,  if  a  concerted  signal  should  be  given.  The  con- 
ference was  held,  and  the  proposals  for  surrender  de- 
clined by  our  countrymen,  at  the  same  time  they  ob- 
served a  party  of  Indians  secretly  creeping  towards  the 
place.  The  hostile  chiefs,  who  advanced  under  pretence 
of  taking  leave,  attempted  to  seize  our  officers.  At  this 
moment,  Smith  waved  his  hat,  when  a  volley  from  the 
garrison  prostrated  four  of  the  enemy.  It  was  perhaps 
owing  to  the  deliberate  coolness  of  our  marksmen,  that 
their  own  party  escaped  into  the  fort,  with  the  exception 
of  one  person,  wounded  by  the  fire  of  those  who  had 
secretly  advanced  towards  the  spring.  The  siege  was 
thus  begun,  and  continued  with  incessant  firing,  night  and 
day,  until  the  losses  of  the  besiegers  eventually  obliged 
them  to  withdraw. 

Major  Smith's  manly  heroism,  his  cool  and  humane 
conduct  throughout  the  defense  of  Boonsborough,  which 
then  consisted  of  only  a  few  log  cabins  stockaded  to- 
gether, produced  sensations  in  the  bosom  of  our  young 


THE    MUSEUM.  69 

heroine,  such  as  his  previous  respectful  attention  had  not 
effected.  These  feelings  were  heightened  by  solicitude 
for  the  life  of  her  defender,  who  experienced  a  violent 
attack  of  fever,  in  consequence  of  the  fatigues  he  had 
undergone  during  the  siege. 

After  a  few  weeks,  the  inhabitants  of  Boonsborough 
resumed  the  peaceful  employment  of  husbandry,  and  the 
proprietor  of  a  farm,  on  the  opposite  side  of  Kentucky 
river,  removed  his  family,  and  re-occupied  the  former 
cabins.  It  happened  that  our  heroine,  whom  we  shall 
designate  as  Miss  A.,  accompanied  by  a  young  female 
friend,  took  a  walk  on  the  banks  of  that  romantic  stream, 
for  the  purpose  of  exercise  and  amusement.  They  ram- 
bled along  the  shore,  and,  meeting  with  a  canoe,  deter- 
mined to  visit  their  opposite  neighbors.  Although  totally 
unaccustomed  to  the  management  of  a  boat,  yet,  as  the 
river  was  low,  they  did  not  doubt  their  ability  to  accom- 
plish their  object.  The  tottering  vessel  was  pushed  from 
the  shore,  and  with  hearts  gay  and  light  as  the  zephyrs 
which  ruffled  the  pellucid  element,  our  female  navigators 
commenced  their  enterprise.  Mutual  raillery  and  laugh- 
ter were  excited  by  their  own  want  of  skill.  The  canoe 
was  whirled  round,  until  at  length  it  struck  a  sand  bar  in 
a  short  bend  of  the  river,  beyond  the  immediate  view  of 
the  fort,  though  not  far  distant  from  it.  They  were  com- 
pelled to  wade  to  the  shore,  where,  after  adjusting  their 
light  summer  dresses,  they  proceeded  to  climb  the  bank, 
for  the  purpose  of  paying  their  intended  visit.  At  this 
moment,  three  Indians  rushed  from  a  bushy  covert, 
and  with  savage  menaces  of  instant  death,  forced  them 
along. 

The  horror  of  their  unexpected  situation,  and  the 
dread  of  the  uplifted  tomahawk,  propelled  them  forward 
at  the  will  of  their  captors,  and  they  ascended,  with 
wonderful  expedition,  the  steep  ravine  which  led  to  the 
summit  of  the  marble  cliff  of  the  Kentucky.  Although 
breathless  and  exhausted,  not  a  moment  was  allowed  for 
respiration  :  their  tangled  clothes  were  torn  by  the  bush- 
es, without  their  daring  to  look  back,  in  order  to  extricate 
them  ;  their  shoes  were  soon  destroyed  by  the  rocks,  and 
their  wounded  feet  and  limbs  stained  with  blood.  With- 


70  THE    MUSEUM. 

out  a  moment's  respite,  fatigue,  despair,  and  torture,  at- 
tended every  step,  and  deprived  them  of  all  recollection, 
until  our  heroine  was  aroused  by  certain  attentions 
which  one  of  the  Indians  displayed.  It  was  a  true  sav- 
age evincement  of  love,  for  while  goading  on  our  help- 
less females  with  a  pointed  stick,  or  using  it  with  reiter- 
ated blows,  he,  in  broken  English,  gave  Miss  A.  to  un- 
derstand, that  her  present  sufferings  should  be  recom- 
pensed by  her  becoming  his  squaw,  on  their  arrival  at 
his  nation.  This  information  proved  an  acme  of  misery, 
which  at  once  roused  the  mind  of  our  heroine,  and  de- 
termined her  to  risk  every  hazard.  She  broke  the  small 
branches  of  plants  and  bushes,  as  they  passed  along,  and 
when  night  overtook  them,  delayed  the  party  as  much  as 
possible,  by  blundering  movements  and  retarded  steps. 
The  Indians  repeatedly  discovered  her  actions,  and  know- 
ing, that  if  pursued  by  the  garrison,  it  would  occasion 
their  own  destruction,  they  rushed  forward  for  the  pur- 
pose of  killing  her — several  attempts  of  this  kind  were 
restrained  by  her  Indian  lover,  who,  with  threats  of  re- 
crimination, warded  off  their  blows.  In  this  manner,  our 
female  captives  traveled  throughout  the  night,  and  on  re- 
turn of  day,  were  exhausted  with  fatigue  and  misery. 
A  momentary  delay  took  place,  while  the  Indians  shot  a 
buffalo,  and  cut  off  some  pieces  of  its  flesh.  This  op- 
portunity was  not  lost  by  Miss  A.,  who  endeavored  to 
influence  the  feelings  of  her  Indian  lover,  by  pointing  to 
her  wounded  frame  and  bleeding  feet.  Her  pallid  coun- 
tenance betokened  exhausted  nature,  and  with  bitter 
tears  she  besought  him  to  end  her  miseries  at  once,  or 
else  allow  some  respite  to  her  suffering.  The  heart  of 
the  savage  was  affected,  and  after  traveling  a  few  miles 
further,  he  persuaded  his  companions  to  stop  ;  and,  while 
they  cooked  part  of  their  game,  he  occupied  himself  in 
making  a  pair  of  moccasons  for  his  fair  captive. 

Some  few  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  ladies  from 
the  fort,  Major  Smith,  at  that  time  in  a  state  of  conva- 
lescence, inquired  after  them,  and  walked  to  the  river 
for  the  purpose  of  joining  their  party.  He  hailed  the 
inhabitants  on  the  opposite  bank,  and  finding  that  the 
ladies  were  not  there,  became  alarmed,  and  proceeded, 
with  another  person,  down  the  river  to  the  canoe,  which 


THE    MUSEUM.  71 

they  reached  by  crossing  the  sand  bar.  Upon  arriving 
on  the  other  side,  they  discovered  moccason  tracks,  and 
proceeded  with  eager  and  rapid  strides  up  the  ravine, 
until  they  assured  themselves  that  there  were  traces  of 
only  three  Indians,  who  had  seized  their  female  friends. 
Smith,  with  an  agonized  mind,  sat  down,  whilst  his 
companion  returned  to  the  garrison  for  arms,  and  with 
directions  to  obtain  the  assistance  of  two  of  the  best 
woodsmen.  Another  party  was  ordered  likewise  imme- 
diately to  proceed  on  horseback  to  the  upper  Blue  Licks, 
which,  at  that  time,  was  the  usual  pass  for  all  northern 
Indians. 

Not  a  moment  was  lost.  Major  Smith  and  his  com- 
rades soon  began  to  follow  the  devious  track  of  the  In- 
dians. Whilst  daylight  lasted,  his  sagacious  eye  rapidly 
traced  every  indistinct  sign.  The  bended  blade  of  grass, 
the  crushed  lichen,  the  smallest  stone  displaced,  were 
unerring  guides  in  the  pursuit,  through  places  especially 
chosen  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  a  discovery  of  the 
route.  They  fortunately  had  sufficient  time  to  unravel 
the  first  intricate  mazes  pursued  by  the  Indians,  and 
when  the  sun  was  setting,  were  convinced  that  the  sav- 
ages intended  to  make  for  the  Blue  Licks.  This  enabled 
our  party  to  follow  the  general  direction  of  the  route  all 
night,  and,  after  some  search,  on  the  following  morning, 
they  recovered  the  Indian  trace,  at  a  short  distance  be- 
yond the  place  where  they  had  killed  the  Buffalo.  Some 
drops  of  blood  which  had  fallen  from  the  meat,  alarmed 
our  commander,  and  they  turned  back  with  the  dreadful 
apprehension  that  their  female  friends  might  be  murdered. 
Their  anxious  minds,  however,  were  happily  soon  relieved, 
and  Smith,  with  silent  expedition,  resumed  the  trace,  tell- 
ing his  companions  that  they  would  meet  their  enemies 
at  the  next  water  course.  On  their  arrival  at  the  creek, 
seeing  no  marks  on  the  opposite  side,  they  waded  down 
the  stream,  with  the  utmost  precaution,  until  they  found 
a  stone  wet  by  the  splashing  of  water. 

The  major  now  silently  arranged  his  men,  ordered  one 
above  and  another  below  the  spot,  whilst  his  third  com- 
panion was  stationed  at  the  landing,  as  a  central  support 
Smith  cautiously  crept  forward  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
until  he  saw  the  curling  smoke  of  the  Indian  fire.  With 


72  THE    MUSEUM. 

deathlike  silence  he  crawled  through  the  bushes,  and  with 
in  thirty  yards,  discovered  an  Indian  stooping  over  the 
flame.  The  click  of  his  rifle-lock  startled  the  savage, 
who,  with  eager  gaze,  looked  around.  At  this  moment, 
the  whistling  bullet  pierced  his  heart,  and  he  fell  pros- 
trate on  the  fire.  The  two  ladies  sprang  towards  the 
major,  and  clung  about  him,  just  as  the  second  Indian 
rushed  forward  with  his  tomahawk.  Smith  threw  them 
off  by  a  sudden  effort,  and  turning  his  gun,  aimed  a  blow, 
which  his  antagonist  evaded,  by  springing  on  one  side. 
The  movement  was  of  little  avail,  for  he  received  his 
mortal  wound  from  the  person  stationed  at  the  rear. 
The  third  Indian  ran  up  the  creek,  and  met  his  fate  from 
the  hands  of  the  person  stationed  in  that  quarter. 

We  cannot  pretend  to  describe  the  sudden  change  of 
bursting  joy  felt  by  the  two  young  ladies.  The  blanket 
coats  of  our  woodsmen  were  cut  into  garments  for  the 
females,  whilst  every  humane  assistance  and  tender  care, 
to  lessen  their  fatigue,  were  afforded,  during  the  slow 
progress  of  their  journey  homewards.  No  alarm  was 
excited,  except  for  a  moment,  on  the  ensuing  day,  when 
the  party  of  horsemen  overtook  them.  They  had  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Blue  Licks,  and  discovering  no  Indian 
trace,  pursued  a  different  route  to  the  garrison,  which  led 
them  on  the  trace  of  the  victorious  and  happy  party. 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  MARSEILLIAN  FAMILY  DURING  THE 
REIGN  OF  TERROR. 

THIS  family  consisted  of  the  father,  the  mother,  and  foui 
children;  two  sons  and  two  daughters,  all  grown  up.  The 
father  and  the  eldest  son  were  in  the  law ;  the  youngest 
son  was  what  is  called  at  Marseilles,  a  Courtier  de  Com- 
merce,— that  is.  an  agent  for  negotiating  commercial  trans- 
actions. The  eldest  son  was  the  first  that  was  involved 
in  the  revolutionary  troubles ;  he  had  been  a  member  of 
one  of  the  sections,  and  was  enrolled  among  the  proscribed, 
at  the  time  when  most  of  those  who  had  belonged  to  the 
sections  fell  under  proscription.  For  seven  months  did  he 
remain  concealed  in  his  father's  house,  by  means  of  a  place 


THE    MUSEUM.  73 

contrived  for  the  purpose,  in  the  room  at  the  very  top  of 
it.  In  the  day  time  he  generally  sat  in  the  room  ;  but  as 
the  domiciliary  visits  were  more  frequently  made  by  night 
than  by  day,  his  bed  was,  for  greater  security,  made  up  in 
his  place  of  asylum  :  hither  he  could  at  any  time  retreat  in 
a  moment,  upon  a  signal  agreed  on  being  made  below,  and 
shut  himself  up  within ;  and  the  door  was  so  well  con- 
trived, that  any  one  searching  the  room  ever  so  accurately, 
unless  previously  acquainted  with  the  secret,  was  not  likely 
to  discover  it. 

As  a  suspicion  was  always  entertained  that  he  was  in 
the  house,  frequent  domiciliary  visits  were  made  to  search 
for  him,  but  he  fortunately  escaped  them  ail.  His  eldest 
sister,  between  whom  and  himself  a  particular  affection 
had  always  subsisted,  and  who  entertained  in  consequence 
a  double  share  of  anxiety  for  his  safety,  was  the  person  on 
whom  he  principally  relied  for  giving  him  timely  notice  to 
conceal  himself  in  case  of  alarm  ;  and  she  has  many  times 
passed  the  whole  night  at  the  window,  to  watch  whether 
any  one  approached  the  house  ; — afraid  to  lie  down,  lest, 
exhausted  by  fatigue,  sleep  should  overtake  her,  and  her 
brother  be  surprised  unawares. 

In  this  situation  he  continued  seven  months,  the  family 
all  that  time  not  daring  to  attempt  removing  him,  as  they 
well  knew  that  a  constant  watch  was  kept  upon  the  house. 
But  the  vigilance  of  the  revolutionists  beginning  at  length 
to  abate,  wearied  with  the  many  fruitless  searches  they 
had  made,  an  opportunity  was  taken  to  convey  him  by 
night  on  board  a  Genoese  vessel,  the  owner  of  which 
had  agreed  to  carry  him  to  Leghorn.  He  was  covered 
over  with  a  heap  of  cords,  sacks,  and  rubbish  of  different 
kinds  :  and  as  soon  as  the  entrance  of  the  port  was  opened 
in  the  morning,  the  vessel  was  put  in  motion  ;  but  at  this 
moment,  when  it  was  hoped  all  danger  was  over,  a  party 
of  the  national  guards  appeared,  and  calling  to  the  mari- 
ners to  stop,  came  on  board  to  visit  her.  They  asked  a 
thousand  questions  of  the  master,  and  even  kicked  some 
of  the  cords  about,  but  fortunately,  without  discovering 
what  they  concealed.  At  length  departing,  they  left  the 
vessel  to  pursue  its  course,  and  the  fugitive  was  finally 
landed  in  safety  at  the  place  of  his  destination.  To  pro- 

7 


74 


THE    MUSEUM. 


vide  the  means  of  satisfying  the  exorbitant  demands  of  the 
Genoese  captain,  the  two  sisters  made  a  sacrifice  of  many 
little  objects  of  value  which  they  possessed  in  personal 
ornaments. 

The  youngest  son,  whose  name  was  equally  on  the  list 
of  the  proscribed,  saved  himself  by  escaping  to  Paris, 
•where,  lost  among  the  crowd,  he  remained  unknown  and 
unregarded,  until  the  death  of  Robespierre.  He  then  re- 
turned to  Marseilles,  and  resumed  his  former  occupation. 

Very  soon  after  the  eldest  son's  departure,  the  father 
was  menaced  with  imprisonment,  perhaps  with  death,  as 
having  two  sons  in  emigration ;  on  which  the  youngest 
daughter  presented  herself  before  the  municipality,  en- 
treating that  her  father  might  remain  at  liberty,  and 
offered  herself  as  a  hostage  that  he  would  commit  no  act 
contrary  to  the  interests  of  the  republic.  Her  offer  of 
becoming  a  prisoner  was  accepted,  and  she  was  conveyed 
to  the  convent  of  the  Ignorantins,  which  was  set  apart  for 
confining  the  women  who  were  arrested,  and  where  eight 
hundred  were  then  immured.  But  though  she  was  de- 
tained, her  father  was  not  left  at  large ;  he  was  arrested 
a  few  days  after,  and  sent  with  a  number  of  proscribed, 
to  confinement  in  another  convent.  The  prison  of  the 
father  was  at  a  different  end  of  the  town  from  that  of  the 
daughter,  and  both  were  equally  removed  from  their  own 
house.  During  eight  months  that  elapsed  from  this  pe- 
riod, to  the  conclusion  of  the  reign  of  terror,  the  eldest 
daughter's  daily  occupation  was  to  visit  her  father  and 
sister  in  their  respective  prisons,  which  she  was  permitted 
to  do,  being  always  searched  at  her  entrance,  lest  she 
should  convey  any  thing  to  them  which  might  assist  their 
escape.  The  anxiety  for  her  sister's  life  was  not  very 
great,  as  few  women  were  led  to  the  scaffold ;  but  she 
daily  entered  the  prison  of  her  father,  uncertain  whether 
she  might  still  find  him,  or  whether  he  might  not  have 
been  among  the  number  who  were  daily  immolated. 
While  at  home,  her  sole  occupation  was  to  endeavor  to 
soothe  and  console  her  mother.  How  miserable, — how 
painful  was  such  a  state  of  existence  ! — and  yet,  painful 
as  it  was,  this  family  was  ultimately  among  the  number  ot 
the  fortunate,  since  no  member  of  it  was  cut  off. 


THE    MUSEUM.  75 


CONTEST  BETWEEN  TWO  HIGHLANDERS. 

THERE  is  a  narrow  pass  between  the  mountains  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Bendearg,  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland, 
which,  at  a  little  distance  has  the  appearance  of  an 
immense  artificial  bridge,  thrown  over  a  tremendous 
chasm ;  but,  on  nearer  approach,  is  seen  to  be  a  wall  of 
nature's  own  masonry,  formed  of  vast  and  rugged  bodies 
of  solid  rock,  piled  on  each  other,  as  if  in  the  giant  sport 
of  the  architect.  Its  sides  are  in  some  places  covered  with 
trees  of  considerable  size,  and  the  passenger  who  has  a 
head  steady  enough  to  look  down  the  precipice,  may  see 
the  eyrie  of  birds  of  prey  beneath  his  feet.  The  path 
across  is  so  narrow,  that  it  cannot  admit  of  persons  pass- 
ing; and  indeed  none  but  natives  would  attempt  the 
dangerous  route,  though  it  saves  a  circuit  of  three  miles ; 
yet  it  sometimes  happens  that  two  travellers  meet,  owing 
to  the  curve  formed  by  the  pass  preventing  a  view  across 
from  either  side  ;  and  when  this  is  the  case,  one  lies  down 
while  the  other  crawls  over  his  body.  One  day  a  High- 
lander, walking  along  the  pass,  when  he  had  gained  the 
highest  part  of  the  arch,  observed  another  coming  leisurely 
up,  and  being  himself  one  of  the  patrician  order,  called  to 
him  to  lie  down.  The  person,  however,  disregarded  the 
command,  and  the  Highlanders  met  on  the  summit.  They 
were  Cairn  and  Bendearg,  of  two  families  in  enmity  with 
each  other.  "  I  was  first  at  the  top,"  said  Bendearg,  "  and 
called  out  first ;  lay  down  that  I  may  pass  over  in  peace." 
"  When  the  Grant  prostrates  himself  before  the  M'Pher- 
son,"  answered  the  other,  "it  must  be  with  a  sword  driven 
through  his  body."  "  Turn  back  then,"  said  Bendearg, 
"and  repass  as  you  came."  "Go  back  yourself,  if  you 
like  it,"  replied  Grant,  "  I  will  not  be  the  first  of  my  name 
to  turn  before  the  M'Pherson."  They  then  threw  their 
bonnets  over  the  precipice,  and  advanced  with  a  slow  and 
cautious  step,  closer  to  each  other.  They  were  both 
unarmed.  Stretching  their  limbs  like  men  preparing  for 
a  desperate  struggle,  they  planted  their  feet  firmly  on  the 
ground,  compressed  their  lips,  knit  their  dark  eyebrows, 
and  fixing  fierce  and  woful  eyes  upon  each  other,  stood 


76 


THE    MUSEUM 


prepared  for  the  onset.  They  both  grappled  at  the  same 
moment ;  but,  being  of  equal  strength,  were  unable  for 
some  time  to  shift  each  other's  position, — standing  fixed 
on  the  rock,  with  suppressed  breath,  and  muscles  strained 
to  the  "  top  of  their  bent,"  like  statues  carved  out  of  solid 
stone.  At  length  M'Pherson,  suddenly  removing  his  right 
foot,  so  as  to  give  him  a  greater  purchase,  stooped  his 
body,  and  bent  his  enemy  down  with  him  by  main  strength, 
till  they  both  leaned  over  the  precipice,  looking  downward 
into  the  terrible  abyss.  The  contest  was  as  yet  doubtful, 
for  Grant  had  placed  his  foot  firmly  on  the  elevation  at 
the  brink,  and  had  equal  command  of  his  enemy ;  but  at 
this  moment  M'Pherson  sunk  slowly  and  firmly  on  his 
knee,  and,  while  Grant  suddenly  started  back,  stooping  to 
take  the  supposed  advantage,  whirled  him  over  his  head 
into  the  gulf.  M'Pherson  himself  fell  backwards,  his  body 
partly  hanging  over  the  rock, — a  fragment  gave  way 
beneath  him,  and  he  sunk  further,  till,  catching  with 
desperate  effort  at  the  solid  stone  above,  he  regained  his 
footing.  There  was  a  pause  of  death-like  stillness :  the 
bold  heart  of  M'Pherson  felt  sick  and  faint.  At  length, 
as  if  compelled  unwillingly,  by  some  mysterious  feeling, 
he  looked  down  over  the  precipice.  Grant  had  caught 
with  a  death-gripe,  by  the  ragged  point  of  a  rock, — his 
enemy  was  yet  almost  within  his  reach.  His  face  was 
turned  upward,  and  there  was  in  it  horror  and  despair; 
but  he  uttered  no  word  or  cry.  The  next  moment  he 
loosed  his  hold,  and  his  brains  were  dashed  out  before  the 
eyes  of  his  hereditary  foe.  The  mangled  body  disap- 
peared among  the  trees, — his  last  heavy  and  hollow 
sound  arose  from  the  bottom.  M'Pherson  returned  home 
an  altered  man.  He  purchased  a  commission  in  the 
army,  and  fell  in  the  wars  of  the  Peninsula.  The  Gaelic 
name  of  the  place  where  this  tragedy  was  acted,  signifies 
Hell  Bridge. 


THE    MUSEUM.  77 


PROVIDENTIAL    ESCAPES    OF   THOMAS    PAINE,    DURING    THE 
FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

THE  following  interesting  account,  in  Mr.  Paine's  own 
words,  is  extracted  from  a  letter  to  Lady  Smith :  "  In 
Paris,  in  1793,  I  had  lodgings  in  the  Rue  Fauxbourg  St. 
Denis,  No.  63.  They  were  the  most  agreeable  for  situa- 
tion of  any  I  ever  had  in  Paris,  except  that  they  were  too 
remote  from  the  convention,  of  which  I  was  then  a  mem- 
ber. But  this  was  recompensed  by  their  being  also  re- 
mote from  the  alarms  and  confusion  into  which  the  inte- 
rior of  Paris  was  then  often  thrown.  The  news  of  those 
things  used  to  arrive  to  us,  as  if  we  were  in  a  state  of 
tranquillity  in  the  country.  The  house,  which  was  in- 
closed by  a  wall  and  gate-way  from  the  street,  was  a 
good  deal  like  an  old  mansion  farm-house,  and  the  court- 
yard was  like  a  farm-yard,  stocked  with  fowls,  ducks,  tur- 
keys and  geese  ;  which,  for  amusement,  we  used  to  feed 
out  of  the  parlor  window  on  the  ground  floor.  There 
were  some  hutches  for  rabbits,  and  a  sty  with  two  pigs. 
Beyond,  was  a  garden  of  more  than  an  acre  of  ground, 
well  laid  out,  and  stocked  with  excellent  fruit-trees.  The 
orange,  apricot,  and  green-gage  plum,  were  the  best  I 
ever  tasted ;  and  it  is  the  only  place  where  I  saw  the  wild 
cucumber.  The  place  had  formerly  been  occupied  by 
some  curious  person. 

My  apartments  consisted  of  three  rooms ;  the  first  for 
wood,  water,  &c.,  with  an  old-fashioned  closet-chest  high 
enough  to  hang  up  clothes  in  ;  the  next  was  the  bed-room  ; 
and  beyond  it  the  sitting-room,  which  looked  into  the  gar- 
den through  a  glass-door ;  and,  on  the  outside,  there  was 
a  small  landing  place  railed  in,  and  a  flight  of  narrow 
stairs,  almost  hidden  by  the  vines  that  grew  over  it,  by 
which  I  could  descend  into  the  garden,  without  going 
down  stairs  through  the  house. 

One  day  I  went  into  my  chamber  to  write  and  sign  a 
certificate  for  two  friends  who  were  under  arrest,  which 
I  intended  to  take  to  the  guard  house,  to  obtain  their  re- 
lease. Just  as  I  had  finished  it,  a  man  came  into  my 
room,  dressed  in  the  Parisian  uniform  of  a  captain,  and 


78  THE    MUSEUM. 

spoke  to  me  in  good  English,  and  with  a  good  address. 
He  told  me  that  two  young  men,  Englishmen,  were  ar- 
rested, and  detained  in  the  guard  house,  and  that  the  sec- 
tion (meaning  those  who  represented  and  acted  for  the 
section)  had  sent  him  to  ask  me  if  I  knew  them,  in  which 
case  they  would  be  liberated.  This  matter  being  soon 
settled  between  us,  he  talked  to  me  about  the  Revolution, 
and  something  about  the  "  Rights  of  Man,"  which  he  had 
read  in  English  ;  and,  at  parting,  offered  me,  in  a  polite 
and  civil  manner,  his  services.  And  who  do  you  think  the 
man  was  that  offered  me  his  services  ?  It  was  no  other 
than  the  public  executioner,  SAMSON,  who  guillotined  the 
king  and  all  who  lived  in  the  same  section,  and  in  the 
same  street  with  me. 

As  to  myself,  I  used  to  find  some  relief  by  walking 
alone  in  the  garden  after  dark,  and  cursing,  with  hearty  good 
will,  the  authors  of  that  terrible  system  that  had  had  turned 
the  character  of  the  revolution  I  had  been  proud  to  defend. 

I  went  but  little  to  the  convention,  and  then  only  to 
make  my  appearance  ;  but  I  found  it  impossible  to  join  in 
their  tremendous  decrees,  and  useless  and  dangerous  to 
oppose  them.  My  having  voted  and  spoken  extensively, 
more  so  than  any  other  member,  against  the  execution  of 
the  king,  had  already  fixed  a  mark  upon  me :  neither 
dared  any  of  my  associates  in  the  convention  to  translate, 
and  speak  in  French  for  me,  any  thing  I  might  have  dared 
to  have  written. 

Pen  and  ink  were  then  of  no  use  to  me :  no  good  could 
be  done  by  writing,  and  no  printer  dared  to  print :  and 
whatever  I  might  have  written  for  my  private  amusement, 
as  anecdotes  of  the  times,  would  have  been  continually 
exposed  to  be  examined,  and  tortured  into  any  meaning 
that  the  rage  of  party  might  fix  upon  it ;  and,  as  to  softer 
subjects,  my  heart  was  in  distress  at  the  fate  of  my  friends, 
and  my  harp  was  hung  upon  the  weeping  willows. 

As  it  was  summer,  we  spent  most  of  our  time  in  the 
garden,  and  passed  it  away  in  those  childish  amusements 
that  serve  to  keep  reflection  from  the  mind,  such  as  marble, 
scotch-hops,  battledores,  &c.,  at  which  we  were  all  pretty 
expert. 

In  this  retired  manner  we  remained  about  six  or  seven 


THEMUSEUM.  79 

weeks  ;  and  our  landlord  went  every  evening  into  the  city, 
to  bring  us  the  news  of  the  day,  and  the  evening  journal. 

Two  days  after,  I  heard  a  rapping  at  the  gate  ;  and 
looking  out  of  the  window  of  the  bedroom,  I  saw  the  land- 
lord going  with  a  candle  to  the  gate,  which  he  opened, 
and  a  guard  with  muskets  and  fixed  bayonets  entered,  I 
went  to  bed  again,  and  made  up  my  mind  for  prison  ;  for 
I  was  then  the  only  lodger.  It  was  a  guard  to  take  up 
,  but,  I  thank  God,  they  were  out  of  their  reach. 

The  guard  came  about  a  month  after,  in  the  night,  and 
took  away  the  landlord,  Georgeit ;  and  the  scene  in  the 
house  finished  with  the  arrestation  of  myself. 

I  was  one  of  the  nine  members  that  composed  the  first 
Committee  of  Constitution.  Six  of  them  have  been  de- 
stroyed ;  Sieyes  and  myself  have  survived — he,  by  bend- 
ing with  the  times,  and  I  by  not  bending.  The  other  sur- 
vivor joined  Robespierre,  and  signed  with  him  the  warrant 
for  my  arrestation.  After  the  fall  of  Robespierre,  he  was 
seized  and  imprisoned  in  his  turn,  and  sentenced  to  trans- 
portation. He  has  since  apologized  to  me  for  having 
signed  the  warrant,  by  saying  he  felt  himself  in  danger, 
and  was  obliged  to  do  it.  Herault  Sechelles,  an  acquaint- 
ance of  Mr.  Jefferson's,  and  a  good  patriot,  was  my  sup- 
pleant  as  a  member  of  the  Committee  of  Constitution ; 
that  is,  he  was  to  supply  my  place,  if  I  had  not  accepted 
or  resigned,  being  next  in  number  of  votes  to  me.  He 
was  imprisoned  in  the  Luxembourg  with  me,  was  taken 
to  the  tribunal,  and  to  the  guillotine  ;  and  I,  his  principal, 
was  left. 

There  were  but  two  foreigners  in  the  convention, 
Anarcharis  Cloots  and  myself.  We  were  both  put  out  of 
the  convention  by  the  same  vote,  arrested  by  the  same 
order,  and  carried  to  prison  together  the  same  night.  He 
was  taken  to  the  guillotine,  and  I  was  again  left.  Joel 
Barlow  was  with  us  when  we  went  to  prison. 

Joseph  Lebon,  one  of  the  vilest  characters  that  ever 
existed,  and  who  made  the  streets  of  Arras  run  with  blood, 
was  my  suppleant  member  of  the  convention  for  the  de- 
partment of  the  Pays  de  Calais.  When  I  was  put  out  of 
the  convention,  he  came  and  took  my  place.  When  I  was 
liberated  from  prison,  and  voted  again  into  the  convention, 


80 


THE    MUSEUM 


he  was  sent  to  the  same  prison,  and  took  my  place  there ; 
and  he  went  to  the  guillotine  instead  of  me.  He  supplied 
my  place  all  the  way  through. 

One  hundred  and  sixty-eight  persons  were  taken  out  of 
the  Luxembourg  in  one  night,  and  a  hundred  and  sixty  of 
them  guillotined  the  next  day,  of  which  I  know  I  was  to 
have  been  one  ;  and  the  manner  in  which  I  escaped  that 
fate  is  curious,  and  has  all  the  appearance  of  accident. 
The  room  in  which  I  was  lodged  was  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  one  of  a  long  range  of  rooms  under  a  gallery,  and  the 
door  of  it  opened  outward  and  flat  against  the  wail ;  so 
that  when  it  was  open,  the  inside  of  the  door  appeared 
outward,  and  the  contrary  when  it  was  shut.  I  had  three 
comrades,  fellow-prisoners  with  me  :  Joseph  Vanhuile,  of 
Bruges,  since  president  of  the  municipality  of  that  town, 
Michael  Robins,  and  Bastini,  of  Louvain.  When  persons 
by  scores  and  by  hundreds  were  to  be  taken  out  of  prison 
for  the  guillotine,  it  was  always  done  in  the  night,  and 
those  who  performed  that  office  had  a  private  mark  or 
signal,  by  which  they  knew  what  rooms  to  go  to,  and  what 
number  to  take. 

We.  as  I  said,  were  four,  and  the  door  of  our  room  was 
marked,  unobserved  by  us,  with  that  number  in  chalk  ;  but 
it  happened,  if  happening  is  a  proper  word,  the  mark  was 
put  on  the  door  when  it  was  open  and  flat  against  the  wall, 
and  thereby  came  on  the  inside  when  we  shut  it  at  night, — 
and  the  destroying  angel  passed  it  by.  A  few  days  after 
this,  Robespierre  fell ;  and  the  American  ambassador  ar- 
rived and  reclaimed  me,  and  invited  me  to  his  house. 

During  the  whole  of  my  imprisonment,  prior  to  the  fall 
of  Robespierre,  there  was  no  time  when  I  could  think  my 
life  worth  twenty-four  hours ;  and  my  mind  was  made  up 
to  meet  its  (ate." 

After  Mr.  Paine's  liberation,  he  found  a  friendly  asylum 
at  the  American  minister's  house,  Mr.  Monroe,  late  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States;  and  for  some  years  before  Mr. 
Paine  left  Paris,  he  lodge  at  Mr.  Bonville's,  associating  oc- 
casionally with  the  great  men  of  the  day,  viz.  Condorcet, 
Volney,  Mercier,  Joel  Barlow,  <fcc.  &c.,  and  sometimes 
dining  with  Bonaparte  and  his  generals. 


THS    MUSEUM.  81 


MURDER    IN    THE    ISLAND    OF    GUERNSEY. 

ABOUT  the  year  1720,  John  Andrew  Gordier,  a  gentle- 
man of  French  extraction,  and  of  considerable  fortune,  in 
the  island  of  Jersey,  was  upon  the  point  of  marrying  the 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant  of  Guernsey ;  but,  on  a 
sudden,  lie  was  lost  to  his  friends  and  relations,  as  well 
as  to  the  lady  who  was  to  have  been  his  bride  ;  and  not- 
withstanding the  most  diligent  inquiry  in  both  islands,  with 
every  possible  search  that  could  be  made,  not  the  least  in- 
telligence could  be  obtained,  either  of  his  death  or  his 
retreat. 

It  happened,  however,  that  after  a  time,  when  all  dis- 
course concerning  him  had  subsided,  his  body  was  acci- 
dentally found  in  Guernsey,  by  some  boys,  in  traversing  the 
beach,  with  two  wounds  on  the  back,  and  one  on  the 
head,  thrust  into  the  cavity  of  a  rock,  whose  mouth  was 
so  small,  that  it  must  have  been  with  difficulty  that  the 
body  could  be  made  to  enter  it. 

This  discovery,  with  those  evident  proofs  of  murder, 
alarmed  the  two  families ;  the  former  inquiries  were  in 
vain  renewed ;  not  the  least  light,  either  to  countenance  sus- 
picion, or  to  ground  conjecture,  could  be  gathered,  to  trace 
out  the  murderer;  and  all  that  could  be  done,  was  to  pay 
the  last  duty  to  the  remains  of  the  unfortunate  youth,  by  sol- 
emnizing his  funeral  with  all  the  marks  of  unaffected  sorrow. 

The  mother  of  the  young  gentleman  remained  inconso- 
lable ;  and  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  soon  to  have  been 
wedded,  pined  in  secret  for  the  loss  of  the  only  man  in  the 
world  whom  she  could  love.  She  was,  indeed,  courted 
by  a  young  merchant ;  but  though  she  was,  in  a  manner, 
constrained  by  her  parents  to  admit  his  addresses,  she  was 
inwardly  resolved  never  to  give  him  her  hand. 

The  mother  of  Gordier,  who  never  ceased  to  ruminate 
on  the  catastrophe  which  had  befallen  her  son,  was  not  a 
little  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  the  young  lady,  whom  she 
looked  upon  as  her  daughter-in-law,  and  whom  she  re- 
garded with  the  greater  tenderness,  as  she  heard  how 
severely  she  was  affected  by  the  sudden  disappearance  of 
her  intended  husband. 


82  THE    MUSEUM. 

Some  years  afterwards,  being  told  that  the  young  lady's 
life  was  in  danger,  she  resolved  to  cross  the  sea  that 
divides  the  islands,  in  order  to  afford  her  every  consolation 
in  her  power,  by  condoling  with  her,  sharing  her  griefs, 
and  thereby  endeavoring  to  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  her 
heart.  As  attendants  in  her  voyage,  Mrs.  Gordier  took 
with  her  a,  beloved  brother  and  an  only  surviving  son. 
When  they  arrived,  they  were  advised  by  the  apothecary, 
who  attended  the  young  lady,  not  to  surprise  her  by  an 
unlooked-for  visit,  till  she  was  prepared  by  degrees  to  re- 
ceive it ;  but,  notwithstanding  all  the  care  that  could  be 
taken,  the  sight  of  the  mother  brought  to  her  mind  the  full 
remembrance  of  the  son,  and  the  shock  was  too  great  for 
her  weak  spirit  to  bear :  she  fainted  upon  the  first  approach 
of  Mrs.  Gordier,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  she  was 
brought  to  herself.  The  mother  was  curious  to  know 
every  little  circumstance  that  attended  the  last  interview 
of  the  young  lovers,  and  of  all  that  had  passed  since  the 
discovery  of  the  murder  of  her  son  ;  and  the  young  lady 
was  no  less  earnest  to  prolong  the  conversation,  but  her 
fits  returned  at  almost  every  period,  and  she  could  only 
say  how  tenderly  they  parted,  and  with  what  ardency  she 
expected  his  promised  return  the  next  day.  It  was  no 
small  concern  to  the  afflicted  mother,  to  see  the  poor  lady 
in  this  weak  state,  dying,  as  she  plainly  perceived  she  was, 
of  a  broken  heart ;  and  the  company  present  could  not 
forbear  vehement  execrations  against  the  author  of  this 
double  distress. 

Mrs.  Gordier,  all  on  a  sudden,  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears, 
on  seeing  a  jewel  pendant  to  the  young  lady's  watch, 
which  she  knew  her  son  had  purchased  as  a  present  to  her, 
before  he  left  the  island  of  Jersey.  The  violence  of  her 
grief  was  observed  by  the  young  lady,  who  had  just  spirits 
enough  to  ask  her  the  immediate  cause.  Being  told  that 
the  sight  of  a  jewel,  the  presentation  of  which  to  his  be- 
loved bride,  was  to  be  the  pledge  of  their  mutual  happi- 
ness, revived  in  her  mind  her  irreparable  loss,  the  young 
lady  was  seemingly  struck  with  horror  and  astonishment 
at  the  declaration,  and,  touching  the  jewel,  as  with  an  ex- 
pression of  contempt,  sunk  into  the  arms  of  her  weeping 
visitor,  and  without  uttering  a  single  word,  except  only  M. 


THE     MUSEUM.  83 

C — a — r —  breathed  her  last.  The  manner  of  her  expir- 
ing seemed  to  involve  a  mystery.  All  present  were  as- 
tonished. The  confusion  which  her  death  occasioned, 
stopped,  for  a  time,  all  further  utterance  ;  but  when  every 
means  had  been  used  to  restore  her,  without  being  able  to 
bring  her  to  life, — and  when  the  effusions  of  sorrow,  poured 
forth  at  her  death,  had  for  a  while  ceased,  all  who  were 
present  began  to  speak  what  they  thought  of  her  behavior 
in  her  last  dying  moments.  Mrs.  Gordier,  who  was  to- 
tally unacquainted  with  the  soft  and  delicate  temper  of 
the  deceased,  could  not  help  dropping  some  unfavorable 
expressions  concerning  her  manner  of  leaving  the  world, 
which  she  thought  plainly  enough  indicated  a  knowledge 
of  the  murder.  Her  own  parents,  who  were  present  at 
the  last  affecting  scene,  fired  with  indignation  at  the  insult 
offered  the  unspotted  innocence  of  their  darling  child,  could 
not  help  resenting  the  ungenerous  interpretation  put.  upon 
the  last  closing  moments  of  her  blameless  life.  A  scene 
of  trouble  and  mutual  reproach  ensued,  which  is  easier  to 
conceive  than  to  relate.  When  the  commotion,  however, 
was  a  little  abated,  and  reason  began  to  take  place,  the 
friends  of  both  families  very  cordially  interposed,  and  en- 
deavored to  reconcile  the  mothers  by  a  cool  examination 
of  the  circumstances  that  occasioned  the  unseasonable 
neat. 

Young  Mr.  Gordier  recollected,  that  he  had  heard  his 
brother  declare,  that  the  jewel  in  question  was  to  be  pre- 
sented to  his  bride  on  her  wedding-day  ;  and,  therefore,  as 
that  had  never  happened,  his  mother  might  be  justified  in 
her  suspicions,  though  perhaps  the  lady  might  be  innocent. 
The  sister  of  the  deceased  calmly  replied,  that  she  believed 
the  warmth  that  had  happened  to  be  founded  on  a  mistake, 
which  she  thought  herself  happy  in  being  able  to  correct. 
The  jewel,  she  said,  which  her  sister  wore,  was  not  pre- 
sented to  her  by  Mr.  Gordier,  but  was  a  present  to  her 
some  years  after  his  unhappy  death,  by  Mr.  Galliard,  a 
very  reputable  merchant  in  Jersey,  who  had  very  assidu- 
ously paid  his  addresses  to  her,  encouraged  so  to  do  with  a 
view,  if  possible,  to  relieve  her  mind,  by  diverting  her  affec- 
tions to  a  new  object ;  that  as  many  jewels  have  the  same 
appearance,  that  purchased  by  Gordier,  and  that  present- 


84  THE    MUSEUM. 

ed  by  Mr.  Galliard,  might  probably  not  be  the  same.  Mrs 
Gordier  very  readily  acquiesced  ;  and,  having  had  time  U 
recover  her  temper,  fell  again  into  tears,  and  in  the  most 
affecting  manner  apologized  for  tier  late  indiscretion,  add- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  that  if  it  was  the  jewel  purchased  by 
her  son,  his  picture  was  artfully  concealed  within  it,  which, 
by  opening,  would  put  the  matter  beyond  a  doubt.  The 
sister,  nor  any  of  the  family,  had  ever  seen  it  open,  and 
knew  nothing  of  such  a  contrivance.  Young  Gordier  in  a 
moment  touched  a  secreted  spring,  and  presented  to  the 
company  the  miniature  inclosed,  most  beautifully  enriched. 
The  consternation  was  now  equal  to  the  discovery.  The 
mystery  was  unravelled.  It  was  instantly  concluded,  that 
the  horror  of  the  murder  must  have  struck  the  deceased, 
and  the  detestation  of  the  murderer  overcame  her.  The 
contempt  with  which  she  wanted  to  spurn  the  jewel  from 
her,  and  her  desire  to  declare  from  whom  she  had  it ;  all 
these  circumstances  concurred  to  fix  the  murder  on  Mr. 
Gailiard,  who,  having  been  formerly  her  father's  clerk,  the 
last  word  she  attempted  to  utter,  was  now  interpreted  to 
mean  the  Cl-a-r-k. 

The  clergyman  who  was  present,  and  who  gave  this 
relation,  being  the  common  friend  of  Galliard  and  the 
family  where  he  now  was,  advised  moderation  and  temper 
in  the  pursuit  of  justice.  Many  circumstances,  he  said, 
may  concur  to  entangle  innocence  in  the  snares  of  guilt, 
and  he  hoped,  for  the  honor  of  human  nature,  that  a  gen- 
tleman of  so  fair  a  character  as  Mr.  Galliard,  could  never 
be  guilty  of  so  foul  a  crime:  he  therefore  wished  he  might 
be  sent  for,  on  the  present  melancholy  occasion,  rather  as 
a  mourner  than  as  a  murderer ;  by  which  means  the  charge 
might  be  brought  on  by  degrees,  and  then,  if  innocent,  as 
he  hoped  he  would  appear,  his  character  would  stand  fair ; 
if  guilty,  care  should  be  taken  that  he  did  not.  escape.  He 
added,  in  support  of  his  counsel,  that  a  man,  once  publicly 
charged  with  murder,  upon  circumstances  strong  as  the 
present  appeared,  though  his  innocence  might  be  clear  as 
the  sun  at  noon-day,  to  those  who  examined  him.  >et  would 
never  again  be  able  to  redeem  his  character  with  the  world, 
let  his  whole  life  after  be  ever  so  irreproachable. 

The  greatest  part  of  the  company  seemed  to  approve 


T  H  E    M  U  S  E  U  M  .  55 

of  his  advice  and  reasons ;  but  it  was  visible  by  the  coun- 
tenance of  Mrs.  Gordier,  that  she,  in  her  own  mind,  had 
prejudged  him  guilty.  However,  in  conformity  to  the 
advice  that  had  been  given,  Mr.  Galliard  was  sent  for,  and 
in  a  few  hours  the  messenger  returned,  accompanied  by 
Mr.  Galliard  in  person. 

The  old  lady,  on  entering  the  room,  in  the  vehemence 
of  her  passion,  charged  him  abruptly  with  the  murder  of 
her  son.  Mr.  Galliard  made  answer  coolly,  that  indeed 
he  well  knew  her  son,  but  had  not  seen  him  for  many  days 
before  the  day  of  his  disappearance,  being  then  out  of  the 
island  upon  business,  as  the  family  in  whose  house  he  now 
was,  could  attest.  "  But  this  jewel,  (said  the  mother, 
showing  him  the  jewel,  open  as  it  was,)  is  an  incontestible 
proof  of  your  guilt :  you  gave  the  deceased  this  jewel, 
which  was  purchased  by  my  son,  and  was  in  his  posses- 
sion at  the  time  of  his  death.  He  denied  ever  seeing  the 
jewel.  The  sister  of  the  deceased  then  confronted  him  ; 
and  taking  it  in  her  hand,  and  closing  it,  "  This  jewel, 
(said  she,)  you  gave  to  my  sister,  in  my  presence,  on  such 
a  day,  (naming  the  day,  the  hour,  and  the  place,)  you 
pressed  her  to  accept  it ;  she  refused  it :  you  pressed  her 
again  ;  she  returned  it,  and  was  not  prevailed  on  to  take 
it.,  till  I  placed  it  to  her  watch,  and  persuaded  her  to  wear 
it."  He  now  betrayed  some  signs  of  guilt ;  but,  looking 
upon  it  when  it  was  closed,  he  owned  the  giving  of  it, 
and  presently  recollecting  himself,  said  he  knew  it  not  in 
the  form  it  was  first  presented  to  him  :  "  But  this  trinket, 
(said  he,)  I  purchased  of  Levi,  the  Jew,  whom  you  all 
know,  and  who  has  travelled  these  islands  for  more  than 
twenty  years.  He,  no  doubt,  can  tell  how  he  came  by 
it."  The  clergyman  now  thought  himself  happy  in  the 
counsel  he  had  given ;  and,  addressing  himself  to  Mrs. 
Gordier — "  I  hope,  madam,  you  will  now  be  patient  till 
the  affair  has  had  a  full  hearing.  Mr.  Galliard  is  clear  in 
his  justification,  and  the  Jew  only,  at  present,  appears  to 
be  the  guilty  person  :  he  is  now  in  the  island,  and  shall 
soon  be  apprehended."  The  old  lady  was  again  cairn, 
and  forced  to  acknowledge  her  rashness,  owing,  as  she 
said,  to  the  impetuosity  of  her  temper,  and  to  the  occasion 

8 


THE    MUSEUM. 

that  produced  it.  She  concluded  by  begging  pardon  of 
Galliard,  whom  she  thought  she  had  injured. 

Galliard  triumphed  in  his  innocence,  hoped  the  lady 
would  be  careful  of  what  she  said,  and  threatened,  if  his 
character  suffered  by  the  charge,  to  refer  the  injury  to  the 
decision  of  the  law.  He  lamented  the  sudden  death  of 
the  unfortunate  young  lady,  and  melted  into  tears  when 
he  approached  her  bed.  He  took  his  leave,  after  some 
stay,  with  becoming  decency  ;  and  every  one,  even  the 
mother,  pronounced  him  innocent. 

It  was  some  days  before  the  Jew  was  found  ;  but  when 
the  news  was  spread,  that  the  Jew  was  in  custody  who 
had  murdered  young  Gordier,  remorse,  and  the  fear  of 
public  shame,  seized  Galliard,  and  the  night  preceding  the 
day  on  which  he  was  to  have  confronted  the  Jew  before 
a  magistrate,  he  was  found  dead,  with  a  bloody  penknife 
in  his  hand,  wherewith  he  had  stabbed  himself  in  three 
places,  two  of  which  were  mortal. 

A  letter  was  found  on  the  table  in  the  room,  acknow- 
ledging his  guilt,  and  concluding  with  these  remarkable 
words :  "  None  but  those  who  have  experienced  the  furi- 
ous impulse  of  ungovernable  love,  will  pardon  the  crime 
which  I  have  committed,  in  order  to  obtain  the  incompar- 
able object  by  whom  my  passions  were  inflamed.  But 
thou,  O  Father  of  mercies !  who  implanted  in  my  soul 
those  strong  desires,  wilt  forgive  one  rash  attempt  to  ac- 
complish my  determined  purpose,  in  opposition,  as  it  would 
seem,  to  thy  Almighty  Providence." 


THE    UNCALLED    AVENGER. 

THE  return  of  the  victorious  Russian  army,  which  had 
conquered  Finland,  under  the  command  of  General  Bux- 
hovden,  says  Mr.  Oldecop  of  St.  Petersburgh,  was  attend- 
ed with  a  circumstance,  which,  if  it  is  true,  has  at  all  times 
been  usual  in  the  train  of  large  armies,  but  which  naturally 
took  place  to  a  much  greater  extent  in  these  high  northern 
latitudes,  where  the  hand  of  man  has  so  imperfectly  sub- 
dued the  original  savageness  of  the  soil.  Whole  droves 


WOLVES    ATTACKING    A    TRAVELER. 
Bte  page  87,  rol.  I. 


THE    MUSEUM.  87 

of  famished  beasts  and  wolves  followed  the  troops  on  their 
return  to  the  south,  to  feed  on  the  chance  prey  afforded 
by  the  carcasses  of  the  artillery  and  baggage  horses  that 
dropped  on  the  road.  In  consequence  of  this,  the  pro- 
vince of  Esthonia,  to  which  several  regiments  directed 
their  march,  was  so  overrun  with  these  animals,  as  greatly 
to  endanger  the  safety  of  travellers.  Hence  in  a  single 
circle  of  the  government,  no  less  than  forty  persons  of 
different  ages,  had  been  devoured,  during  the  winter,  by 
these  ravenous  beasts.  It  became  hazardous  to  venture 
alone  and  unarmed,  into  the  uninhabited  parts  of  the 
country  ;  neverthless,  an  Esthonian  countrywoman  boldly 
undertook  a  journey  to  a  distant  relation,  not  only  without 
any  male  companion,  but  with  three  children,  the  young- 
est of  whom  was  still  at  the  breast.  A  little  sledge,  drawn 
by  one  horse,  received  the  little  party ;  the  way  was  nar- 
row, but  well  beaten ;  the  snow  on  each  side  deep  and 
impassable,  and  to  turn  back,  without  danger  of  sticking 
fast,  not  to  be  thought  of. 

The  first  half  of  the  journey  was  passed  without  acci- 
dent. The  road  now  ran  along  the  skirts  of  a  pine  forest, 
when  the  traveller  suddenly  perceived  a  suspicious  noise 
behind  her.  Casting  back  a  look  of  alarm,  she  saw  a  troop 
of  wolves  trotting  along  the  road,  the  number  of  which  her 
fears  hindered  her  from  estimating.  To  escape  by  flight 
is  her  first  thought:  and,  with  unsparing  whip,  she  urges 
the  horse  into  a  gallop,  which  itself  snuffs  the  danger. 
Soon  a  couple  of  the  strongest  and  most  hungry  of  the 
beasts  appear  at  her  side,  and  seem  disposed  to  stop  the 
way.  Though  their  intention  seems  to  be  only  to  attack 
the  horse,  yet  the  safety  both  of  the  mother  and  children 
depends  upon  the  preservation  of  the  animal.  The  danger 
raises  its  value  :  it  seems  entitled  to  claim  for  its  preserva- 
tion an  extraordinary  sacrifice.  As  the  mariner  throws 
overboard  his  richest  treasures  to  appease  the  raging 
waves,  so  here  has  necessity  reached  a  height  at  which 
the  emotions  of  the  heart  are  dumb  before  the  dark  com- 
mands of  instinct :  the  latter  alone  suffers  the  unhappy 
woman  to  act  in  this  distress.  She  seizes  her  second  child^ 
whose  bodily  infirmities  have  often  made  it  an  object  of 
anxious  care,  whose  cry  even  now  offends  her  ear,  and 


88  THE    MtJSETJ  M  . 

threatens  to  whet  the  appetite  of  the  blood-thirsty  monsters 
— she  seizes  it  with  an  involuntary  motion,  and  before  the 
mother  is  conscious  of  what  she  is  doing,  it  is  cast  out,  and 
— enough  of  the  horrid  tale  !  The  last  cry  of  the  victim 
still  sounded  in  her  ear,  when  she  discovered  that  the  troop, 
which  had  remained  some  minutes  behind,  again  closely 
pressed  on  the  sledge.  The  anguish  of  her  soul  increases,  for 
again  the  murder-breathing  forms  are  at  her  side.  Press- 
ing the  infant  to  her  heaving  bosom,  she  casts  a  look  on 
her  boy,  four  years  old,  who  crowds  closer  and  closer  to 
her  knee.  "  But,  dear  mother,  I  am  good,  am  I  not  ? 
You  will  not  throw  me  into  the  snow,  like  the  bawler  ?" 
"  And  yet !  and  yet !"  cried  the  wretched  woman,  in  the 
wild  tumult  of  despair,  "  thou  art  good,  but  God  is  merci- 
ful !  Away  !"  The  dreadful  deed  was  done.  To  escape 
the  furies  that  raged  within  her,  the  woman  exerted  her- 
self, with  powerless  lash,  to  accelerate  the  gallop  of  the 
exhausted  horse.  With  the  thick  and  gloomy  forest  before 
and  behind  her,  and  the  nearer  and  nearer  trampling  of 
her  ravenous  pursuers,  she  almost  sinks  under  her  anguish  ; 
only  the  recollection  of  the  infant  that  she  holds  in  her 
arms, — only  the  desire  to  save  it,  occupies  her  heart,  and 
with  difficulty  enables  it  to  bear  up.  She  did  not  venture 
to  look  behind  her.  All  at  once,  two  rough  paws  are  laid 
on  her  shoulders,  and  the  wide  open,  bloody  jaws  of  an 
enormous  wolf  hung  over  her  head.  It  is  the  most 
ravenous  beast  of  the  troop,  which,  having  partly  miss- 
ed its  leap  at  the  sledge,  is  dragged  along  with  it,  in 
vain  seeking,  with  its  hinder  legs,  for  a  resting  place,  to 
enable  it  to  get  wholly  on  the  frail  vehicle.  The  weight 
of  the  body  of  the  monster  draws  the  woman  backwards 
— her  arms  rise  with  the  child :  half  torn  from  her,  half 
abandoned,  it  becomes  the  prey  of  the  ravenous  beast, 
which  hastily  carries  it  off  into  the  forest.  Exhausted, 
stunned,  senseless,  she  drops  the  reins,  and  continues  her 
journey,  ignorant  whether  she  is  delivered  from  her  pursu- 
ers or  not. 

Meantime  the  forest  grows  thinner,  and  an  insulated 
farm-house,  to  which  a  side  road  leads,  appears  at  a  mode- 
rate distance.  The  horse,  left  to  itself,  follows  this  new 
path ;  it  enters  through  an  open  gate,  panting  and  foaming 


THE    MUSEUM.  89 

—it  stands  still ;  and  amid  a  circle  of  persons  who  crowd 
round,  with  good  natured  surprise,  the  unhappy  woman 
recovers  from  her  stupefaction,  to  throw  herself,  with  a 
loud  scream  of  anguish  and  horror,  into  the  arms  of  the 
nearest  human  being,  who  appears  to  her  as  a  guardian 
angel.  All  leave  their  work, — the  mistress  of  the  house, 
the  kitchen,  the  thresher  at  the  barn,  the  eldest  son  of  the 
family,  with  his  axe  in  his  hand, — the  wood  which  he  had 
just  cleft, — to  assist  the  unfortunate  woman ;  and  with  a 
mixture  of  curiosity  and  pity,  to  learn,  by  a  hundred  inqui- 
ries, the  circumstances  of  her  singular  appearance.  Re- 
freshed by  whatever  can  be  procured  at  the  moment,  the 
stranger  gradually  recovers  the  power  of  speech,  and 
ability  to  give  an  intelligible  account  of  the  dreadful  trial 
which  she  has  undergone.  The  insensibility  with  which 
fear  and  distress  had  steeled  her  heart,  begins  to  disap- 
pear :  but  new  terrors  seize  her — the  dry  eye  seeks  in  vain 
a  tear — she  is  on  the  brink  of  boundless  misery. 

But  her  narrative  had  also  excited  conflicting  feelings  in 
the  bosoms  of  her  auditors ;  though  pity,  commiseration, 
dismay  and  abhorrence,  imposed  alike  on  all,  the  same 
involuntary  silence.  One  only,  unable  to  command  the 
overpowering  emotions  of  his  heart,  advanced  before  the 
•rest,  it  was  the  young  man  with  the  axe.  His  cheeks 
were  pale  with  affright,  his  wildly  rolling  eyes  flashed  ill- 
omened  fire.  "  What !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  three  children — 
thine  own  children  !  the  sickly  innocent — the  imploring 
boy — the  infant  suckling — all  cast  out  by  the  mother  to  be 
devoured  by  the  wolves  !  Woman,  thou  art  unworthy  to 
live."  And  at  the  same  instant  the  uplifted  steel  descends 
with  resistless  force,  on  the  skull  of  the  wretched  woman, 
who  falls  dead  at  his  feet.  The  perpetrator  then  calmly 
wipes  the  blood  off  the  murderous  axe,  and  returns  to  his 
work. 

The  dreadful  tale  speedily  came  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  magistrates,  who  caused  the  uncalled  avenger  to  be 
arrested  and  brought  to  trial.  He  was  of  course  sen- 
tenced to  the  punishment  ordained  by  the  laws ;  but  the 
sentence  still  wanted  the  sanction  of  the  Emperor.  Alex- 
ander, the  splendor  of  whose  virtues  is  only  rendered 
more  conspicuous  by  the  throne,  caused  all  the  circum- 

8* 


90  THE    MUSEUM. 

stances  of  this  crime,  so  extraordinary  in  the  motives  in 
which  it  originated,  to  be  reported  to  him  in  the  most 
careful  and  detailed  manner.  Here,  or  no  where,  he 
thought  himself  called  on  to  exercise  the  god-like  privilege 
of  mercy,  by  commuting  the  sentence  passed  on  the 
criminal,  into  a  condemnation  to  labor,  not  very  severe ; 
and  he  accordingly  sent  the  young  man  to  the  fortress  of 
Dunamunde,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Duna,  in  the  gulf  of  Riga, 
there  to  be  confined  to  labor  during  his  majesty's  pleasure. 


SUFFERINGS    OF    DAVID     MENZIES,    SURGEON,    AMONG    THE 
CHEROKEES. 

JUST  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Cherokee  war,  I 
went,  by  the  desire  of  colonel  Lewis  Sinclair,  to  visit  a  gang 
of  negroes  of  his,  that  were  set  down  on  a  new  planta- 
tion, situated  on  the  Oconee  river,  which  is  properly  a 
stream  of  the  Altamaha,  and  joins  a  branch  of  the  Sa- 
vannah, called  Broad  river ;  the  place  is  about  seventy 
miles  above  the  town  of  Augusta,  and  from  it  to  the  low- 
est town  of  the  Cherokee  Indians,  is  near  a  hundred. 
The  very  night  after  my  arrival,  we  were  surrounded  by- 
a  party  of  Cherokees,  and  as  we  made  no  resistance, 
taken  all  alive.  We  were  driven  away  before  them,  laden 
with  pillage  into  their  own  country,  excepting  two  negroes, 
whom,  being  sick,  and  unable  to  keep  pace  with  us,  they 
scalped  and  left  on  the  path.  In  proceeding  to  the  town, 
I  understood,  (having  some  knowledge  of  their  language,) 
that  these  Cherokees  had,  in  this  expedition,  lost  one  of 
their  head  warriors,  in  a  skirmish  with  some  of  our 
rangers ;  and  that  I  was  destined  to  be  presented  to  that 
chief's  mother  and  family  in  his  room ;  at  which  I  was 
overjoyed, — as  knowing  that  I  thereby  stood  a  chance, 
not  only  of  being  secured  from  death,  and  exempted  from 
torture,  but  even  of  good  usage  and  caresses.  I  per- 
ceived, however,  that  I  had  overrated  much  my  matter 
of  consolation,  as  soon  as  I  was  introduced  in  form  to 
this  mother  of  heroes.  She  sat  squat  on  the  ground,  with 
a  bear's  cub  in  her  lap,  as  nauseous  a  figure  as  the  accu- 


THE    MUSEUM.  01 

mulated  infirmities  of  decrepitude,  undisguised  by  art, 
could  make  her,  and  instead  of  courteously  inviting  her 
captive  to  replace,  by  adoption,  her  lost  child,  fixed  first 
her  haggard,  blood-shot  eyes  upon  me,  then,  riveting  them 
to  the  ground,  gargled  out  rny  rejection,  and  consequent 
destruction.  My  head  ran  on  nothing  now  but  stones, 
sticks,  pitch-pine,  scalping-knives,  tomahawks,  and  the  rest 
of  the  instruments  of  savage  cruelty ;  but  I  was  mistaken 
in  that,  too,  and  reserved,  alas  !  for  new  and  unheard-of 
torments.  These  Indians,  in  one  of  their  late  incursions 
into  South  Carolina,  had  met,  it  seems,  with  some  larded 
venison,  which  hit  their  taste ;  in  consequence  whereof, 
they  had  carried  home  some  larding-pins,  as  well  as  a 
quantity  of  bacon  ;  and  my  cannibal  mistress  determined 
by  my  means,  on  an  application  of  this  discovery  to 
human  flesh. 

It  was  evening, — and  these  barbarians  brought  me  stark 
naked  before  a  large  fire,  kindled  in  the  midst  of  the 
diabolic  heroine's  hut,  around  which,  the  three  or  four 
other  families  who  were  also  inmates  of  this  Indian  house, 
were  collected,  with  great  quantities  of  rum  before  them, 
and  every  other  preparation  towards  a  feast ;  and  two 
young  torturers,  having  fast  bound  me  to  a  stake,  began 
to  experiment  on  me  the  culinary  operation  of  larding. 
After  these  cooks  of  hell  had  larded  all  my  left  side,  they 
turned  it  close  to  the  fire,  and  proceeded  on  the  other. 
But  as  this  performance  took  up  much  time,  on  account 
of  the  unskilfulness  of  the  operators,  and  of  my  strug- 
gling,— and  as  I  afforded  infinite  entertainment  and 
laughter  to  the  old  hag  and  her  company, — for  I  own, 
that  being  one  of  Sancho's  disciples  who  can't  suffer  in 
silence,  I  squalled  and  roared  most  abominably, — (larding 
being  in  reality  a  very  painful  process  to  a  live  creature, 
the  pin  not  merely  going  through  the  insensible  epidermis, 
or  scarf-skin,  but  lacerating  the  pyramidal  papillae  of  the 
true  skin,  which  anatomists  agree  to  be  the  seat  of  feel- 
ing,) and  as  the  savages  in  the  meanwhile  plied  their  rum 
impatiently,  the  whole  assembly  were  by  this  time  asleep, 
or  intoxicated,  at  least;  and  my  tormentors,  who  had 
taken  care  not  to  lose  their  share  of  the  fire- broth,  grew 
languid  and  drowsy,  nor  delayed  long  to  follow  the  exam- 


92  THE    MUSEUM. 

pie  set  them.  I  did  not  let  this  providential  opportunity 
slip,  you  will  believe,  but  instantly  disengaged  my  right 
arm,  (at  the  expense  of  the  greater  part  of  the  belly  of  the 
palmaris  brevis  muscle,  and  with  the  dislocation  of  the 
eighth  bone  of  the  carpus,)  and  fell  to  untying  myself 
with  expedition ;  I  then  escaped  into  the  town,  from 
.whence  I  dashed  precipitately  into  the  woods ;  having 
only  stayed  just  long  enough  to  place  some  of  the  fire- 
brands in  a  position  that  would  probably  set  fire  to  the 
cabin,  and  not  having  forgotten  to  lay  a  small  one  in  the 
lap  of  my  inhuman  she-tyrant.  When  I  found  I  was  not 
pursued,  I  looked  back,  like  Lot's  wife,  and  saw  with 
great  satisfaction,  the  Indian  town  in  flames  ;  for  the  con- 
struction of  these  cities  are  very  susceptible  of  inflamma- 
tions, as  the  British  red  warriors  have  since  luckily  dis- 
covered. 

I  continued  my  journey  through  the  wilderness,  chiefly 
by  night,  towards  the  south-east ;  but  was  presently  aware 
of  the  danger  I  was  in  from  starving,  unprovided  as  I  was 
with  fire-arms :  yet  from  this  imminent  distress  was  I, 
almost  miraculously,  preserved  by  the  cruelty  itself  of  the 
Indians ;  nor  am  I  ashamed  to  confess,  that  I  sustained 
famished  nature  by  the  bacon  that  was  saturated  with  the 
juices  of  my  own  body.  I  have  read  of  an  English  gen- 
tleman, who,  in  the  Black-hole  of  Calcutta,  (I  think,)  ap- 
peased his  otherwise  unalleviated  thirst,  by  imbibing  his 
own  sweat,  or  rather,  indeed,  by  continuing  the  wonted 
secretions  of  the  glands,  by  the  action  of  sucking,  as  per- 
sons do  who  roll  a  stone  about  their  mouths. — and  who  at 
that  time  considered  another  gentleman's  milking  his  shirt 
clandestinely,  as  a  very  unfair  proceeding :  and  I  am  sa- 
tisfied that  I  should  have  looked  on  an  attempt  to  have 
deprived  me  of  my  Indian  larding,  so  much  in  the  light  of 
a  robbery,  as  to  have  punished,  even  with  unlicensed  death, 
any  invasion  of  my  dearly  acquired  property. 

I  penetrated  at  last  through  all  difficulties,  to  Augusta, 
where  I  was  entertained  with  great  humanity  and  civility 
by  Justice  Ray,  and  was  cured  of  my  wounds,  and  of  the 
symptomatic  fever,  their  consequence  ;  and  so  far  am  I 
from  experiencing  any  material  detriment  from  this  Indian 
treatment,  (for  I  am  above  accounting  a  few  eschars  on 


TIIEMT7SET7M 


one  cheek  such,)  that  I  have  even  received,  I  imagine,  a 
momentous  benefit  ;  having  got  rid  entirely  of  a  paralytic 
complaint  I  had  been  afflicted  with  for  years,  in  that  left 
side  of  mine,  that  was  roasted. 


ACCOUNT  OF  HENRY  WELBY,  WHO  LIVED  FORTY-FOUR  YEARS 
THE  LIFE  OF  A  HERMIT,  IN  THE  CITY  OF  LONDON. 

THE  noble  and  virtuous  Henry  Welby  was  a  native  of 
Lincolnshire,  and  inherited  a  clear  estate  of  more  than 
£1000  a  year.  He  was  regularly  bred  at  the  university, 
— studied  for  some  time  in  one  of  the  inns  of  court,  and  in 
the  course  of  his  travels,  spent  several  years  abroad.  On 
his  return,  this  very  accomplished  gentleman  settled  on  his 
paternal  estate,  lived  with  great  hospitality,  matched  to  his 
liking,  and  had  a  beautiful  and  virtuous  daughter,  who  was 
married,  with  his  entire  approbation,  to  Sir  Christopher 
Hilliard,  in  Yorkshire.  He  had  now  lived  to  the  age  of 
forty,  respected  by  the  rich,  prayed  for  by  the  poor, 
honored  and  beloved  by  all ;  when  one  day  a  younger 
brother,  with  whom  he  had  some  difference  in  opinion, 
meeting  him  in  the  field,  snapped  a  pistol  at  him,  which 
happily  flashed  in  the  pan.  Thinking  that  this  was  done 
only  to  fright  him,  he  coolly  disarmed  the  ruffian,  and  put- 
ting the  weapon  carelessly  into  his  pocket,  thoughtfully  re- 
turned home  :  but,  on  after  examination,  the  discovery  of 
bullets  in  the  pistol,  had  such  an  effect  upon  his  mind,  that 
he  immediately  conceived  an  extraordinaiy  resolution,  of 
retiring  entirely  from  the  world,  in  which  he  persisted  in- 
flexibly to  the  end  of  his  life.  He  took  a  very  good  house 
in  the  lower  end  of  Grub  street,  near  Cripplegate,  and  con- 
tracting a  numerous  retinue  into  a  small  family,  having  the 
house  prepared  for  his  purpose,  he  selected  three  chambers 
for  himself, — one  for  his  diet,  the  second  for  his  lodging, 
and  the  third  for  his  study.  As  they  were  one  within 
another,  while  his  diet  wras  set  on  the  table,  by  an  old 
maid,  he  retired  into  his  lodging  room ;  and  when  his  bed 
was  making,  into  his  study, — still  doing  so  till  all  was 
clear. 


04  THE    MUSEUM. 

Out  of  these  chambers,  from  the  time  of  his  first  entry 
into  them,  he  never  issued,  till  he  was  carried  thence,  forty- 
four  years  after,  on  men's  shoulders ;  neither  in  all  that  time, 
did  his  son-in-Jaw,  daughter,  or  grand-child,  brother,  sister, 
or  kinsman, — young  or  old,  rich  or  poor,  of  what  degree  or 
condition  soever,  look  upon  his  face,  save  the  ancient  maid, 
whose  name  was  Elizabeth.  She  only  made  his  fire,  pre- 
pared his  bed,  provided  his  diet,  and  dressed  his  chambers. 
She  saw  him  but  seldom,  never  but  in  cases  of  extraordinary 
necessity,  and  died  not  above  six  days  before  him.  In  all 
the  time  of  his  retirement,  he  never  tasted  fish  or  flesh ;  his 
chief  food  was  oatmeal  gruel ;  now  and  then,  in  summer, 
he  had  a  salad  of  some  choice  cool  herbs  ;  and  for  dainties, 
when  he  would  feast,  the  yolk  of  a  hen's  egg,  but  no  part 
of  the  white ;  what  bread  he  did  eat,  he  cut  out  of  the 
middle  of  the  loaf,  but  the  crust  he  never  tasted.  His  con- 
stant drink  was  four  shillings  beer,  and  no  other,  for  he 
never  tasted  wine  or  strong  liquor.  Now  and  then,  when 
his  stomach  served,  he  did  eat  some  kinds  of  suckets;  and 
now  and  then  drank  red  cow's  milk,  which  his  maid  Eliza- 
beth fetched  him  out  of  the  fields,  hot  from  the  cow.  Ne- 
vertheless he  kept  a  bountiful  table  for  his  servants,  and 
sufficient  entertainment  for  any  stranger  or  tenant,  who 
had  occasion  of  business  at  his  house.  Every  book  that 
was  printed  was  bought  for  him,  and  conveyed  to  him ; 
but  such  as  related  to  controversy  he  always  laid  aside, 
and  never  read. 

In  Christmas  holidays,  at  Easter,  and  other  festivals,  he 
had  great  cheer  provided,  with  all  dishes  in  season,  served 
into  his  own  chamber,  with  store  of  wine,  which  his  maid 
brought  in.  Then,  after  thanks  to  God  for  his  good  bene- 
fits, he  would  pin  a  clean  napkin  before  him,  and  putting 
on  a  pair  of  white  Holland  sleeves,  which  reached  to  his 
elbows,  cutting  up  dish  after  dish,  in  order,  he  would  send 
one  to  one  poor  neighbor,  the  next  to  another,  whether  it 
were  brawn,  beef,  capon,  goose,  &c.  till  he  had  left  the 
table  quite  empty.  When  giving  thanks  again,  he  laid  by 
his  linen,  and  caused  the  cloth  to  be  taken  away ;  and  this 
would  he  do,  dinner  and  supper,  upon  these  days,  without 
tasting  one  morsel  of  any  thing  whatsoever.  When  any 
clamored  impudently  at  his  gate,  they  were  not  therefore 


T  H  E     M  U  S  E  IT  M  .  95 

immediately  relieved ;  but  when,  from  his  private  chamber, 
which  had  a  prospect  into  the  street,  he  spied  any  sick, 
weak,  or  lame,  he  would  presently  send  after  them,  to 
comfort,  cherish  and  protect  them ;  and  not  a  trifle  to 
serve  them  for  the  present,  but  so  much  as  would  relieve 
them  for  many  days  after.  He  would,  moreover,  inquire 
what  neighbors  were  industrious  in  their  callings,  and  who 
had  great  charge  of  children  ;  arid  withal,  if  their  labor  and 
industry  could  not  sufficiently  supply  their  families, — to 
such  he  would  liberally  send,  and  relieve  them  according 
to  their  necessities. 

He  died  at  his  house  in  Grub-street,  after  an  anchoreti- 
cal  confinement  of  forty-four  years,  October  29th,  1636, 
aged  eighty-four.  At  his  death,  his  hair  and  beard  were 
so  overgrown,  that  he  appeared  rather  like  a  hermit  of  the 
wilderness,  than  like  the  inhabitant  of  one  of  the  first  cities 
in  the  world. 


SINGULAR    CASE    OF   JOAN    PERRY    AND    HER    TWO    SONS. 

ON  Thursday,  the  16th  of  August,  1660,  William  Har- 
rison, steward  to  the  Lady  Viscountess  Campden,  in  Glou- 
cestershire, being  about  70  years  of  age,  walked  from 
Campden  aforesaid,  to  Charringworth,  about  two  miles 
from  thence  to  receive  his  Lady's  rent :  and  not  returning 
so  early  as  formerly,  his  wife,  Mrs.  Harrison,  between  8 
and  9  o'clock  that  evening,  sent  her  servant,  John  Perry, 
to  meet  his  master  on  the  way  from  Charringworth  ;  but, 
neither  Mr.  Harrison  nor  his  servant  John  Perry  returned 
that  night.  The  next  morning  early,  Edward  Harrison, 
William's  son,  went  towards  Charringworth,  to  inquire 
after  his  father  ;  when,  on  the  way,  meeting  Perry  com- 
ing thence,  and  being  informed  by  him  he  was  not  there, 
they  went  together  to  Ebrington,  a  village  between  Char- 
ringworth and  Campden,  where  they  were  told  by  one 
Daniel,  that  Mr.  Harrison  called  at  his  house  the  evening 
before,  in  his  return  from  Charringworth,  but  staid  not ; 
they  then  went  to  Paxford,  about  a  mile  thence,  where, 
hearing  nothing  of  Mr.  Harrison,  they  returned  towards 


06  THEMITSETTM. 

Campden :  and  on  the  way,  hearing  of  a  hat,  band  and 
comb,  taken  up  in  the  high  way,  between  Ebrington  and 
Carnpden,  by  a  poor  woman  then  leesing  in  the  field ; 
they  sought  her  out,  with  whom  they  found  the. hat,  band 
and  comb,  which  they  knew  to  be  Mr.  Harrison's ;  and 
being  brought  by  the  woman  to  the  place  where  she  found 
the  same,  in  the  highway,  between  Ebrington  and  Camp- 
den,  near  unto  a  great  furzbrake,  they  there  searched  for 
Mr.  Harrison,  supposing  he  had  been  murdered,  the  hat 
and  comb,  being  hacked  and  cut,  and  the  band  bloody  ; 
but  nothing  more  could  be  there  found.  The  news  here- 
of, coming  to  Campden,  so  alarmed  the  town,  that  men, 
women,  and  children,  hastened  thence  in  multitudes,  to 
search  for  Mr.  Harrison's  supposed  dead  body,  but  all  in 
vain. 

Mrs.  Harrison's  fear  for  her  husband,  being  great,  was 
now  much  increased ;  and  having  sent  her  servant  Perry, 
the  evening  before,  to  meet  his  master,  and  he  not  return- 
»ng  that  night,  caused  a  suspicion  that  he  had  robbed  and 
murdered  him  ;  and  thereupon  the  said  Perry  was,  the  next 
day,  brought  before  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  by  whom  being 
examined  concerning  his  master's  absence,  and  his  own 
staying  out  the  night  he  went  to  meet  him,  he  gave  this 
account  of  himself:  that,  his  mistress  sending  him  to  meet 
his  master,  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
he  went  down  to  Campden  field,  towards  Charringworth, 
about  a  land's  length,  where  meeting  one  William  Reed, 
of  Campden,  he  acquainted  him  with  his  errand ;  and  further 
told  him,  that,  as  it  was  growing  dark,  he  was  afraid  to  go 
forwards,  and  would  therefore  return  and  fetch  his  young 
master's  horse  and  return  with  him ;  Jae  did  go  to  Mr. 
Harrison's  court-gate,  where  they  parted,  and  he  staid  still. 
Once  Pearce  coming  by,  he  went  again  with  him  about  a 
bow's  shot  into  the  fields,  and  returned  with  him  likewise 
to  his  master's  gate,  where  they  also  parted  ;  and  that  he, 
the  said  John  Perry,  saith,  he  went  into  his  master's  hen- 
roost, where  he  lay  about  an  hour,  but  slept  not ;  and, 
when  the  clock  struck  twelve,  rose  and  went  towards 
Charringworth,  till,  a  great  mist  arising,  he  lost  his  way, 
and  so  lay  the  rest  of  the  night  under  a  hedge  ;  and,  at  day- 
break on  Friday  morning,  went  to  Charringworth,  where 


T  H  E    M  TT  S  E  TT  M  .  97 

he  inquired  for  his  master  of  one  Edward  Piaisterer,  who 
told  him  lie  had  been  with  him  the  afternoon  before,  and 
received  three  and  twenty  pounds  of  him,  but  staid  not 
long  with  him  ;  he  then  went  to  William  Curtis,  of  the 
same  town,  who  likewise  told  him,  he  heard  his  master 
was  at  his  house  the  day  before,  but  not  being  at  home  did 
not  see  him  ;  after  which,  he  saith,  he  returned  homewards, 
it  being  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when,  on  the 
way,  he  met  his  master's  son,  with  whom  he  went  to 
Ebrington  and  Paxford,  &c.,  as  hath  been  related. 

Reed,  Pearce,  Piaisterer,  and  Curtis,  being  examined, 
affirmed  what  Perry  had  said  concerning  them  to  be  true. 

Perry,  being  asked  by  the  Justice  of  Peace,  how  he, 
who  was  afraid  to  go  to  Charringworth  at  nine  o'clock, 
became  so  bold  as  to  go  thither  at  twelve  ?  answered,  at 
nine  o'clock  it  was  dark,  but  at  twelve  the  moon  shone. 

Being  further  asked,  why,  returning  twice  home,  after 
his  mistress  had  sent  him  to  meet  his  master,  and  staying 
till  twelve  o'clock,  he  went  not  into  the  house  to  know 
whether  his  master  were  come  home,  before  he  went  a 
third  time,  at  that  time  of  night,  to  look  after  him  ?  answer 
ed,  that  he  knew  his  master  was  not  come  home,  because 
he  saw  a  light  in  the  chamber  window,  which  never  used 
to  be  there  so  late  when  he  was  at  home. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  this  that  Perry  had  said  for  his 
staying  forth  that  night,  it  was  not  thought  fit  to  discharge 
him  till  further  inquiry  were  made  after  Mr.  Harrison ; 
and  accordingly,  he  continued  in  custody  at  Campden, 
sometimes  at  an  inn  there,  and  sometimes  in  the  common 
prison,  from  Saturday,  August  the  Eighteenth,  until  the 
Friday  following;  during  which  time  he  was  again  ex- 
amined at  Campden,  by  the  aforesaid  Justice  of  Peace, 
but  confessed  nothing  more  than  before ;  nor  at  that  time, 
could  any  further  discovery  be  made  what  was  become 
of  Mr.  Harrison.  But  it  hath  been  said,  that  during  his 
restraint  at  Campden,  he  told  some,  who  pressed  him  to 
confess  what  he  knew  concerning  his  master,  that  a  tinker 
had  killed  him  ;  and  to  others,  he  said,  a  gentleman's  ser- 
vant of  the  neighborhood  had  robbed  and  murdered  him  ; 
and  others,  again,  he  told,  that  he  was  murdered,  and  hid 
in  a  bean-rick  in  Campden,  where  search  was  in  vain 

9 


98  THE     MUSEUM. 

made  for  him  ;  at  length  he  gave  out,  that,  were  he  again 
carried  before  the  Justice,  he  would  discover  that  to  him 
he  would  discover  to  nobody  else  ;  and  thereon,  he  was  on 
Friday,  August  the  twenty-fourth,  again  brought  before  the 
Justice  of  Peace,  who  first  examined  him,  and  asking  him 
whether  he  would  yet  confess  what  was  become  of  his 
master,  he  answered,  he  was  murdered,  but  not  by  him  ; 
the  Justice  of  Peace  then  telling  him,  that,  if  he  knew  him 
to  be  murdered,  he  knew  likewise  by  whom  it  was  ;  so  he 
acknowledged  he  did  ;  and  being  urged  to  confess  what 
he  knew  concerning  it,  affirmed,  that  it  was  his  mother  and 
brother  that  had  murdered  his  master.  The  Justice  of 
Peace  then  advised  him  to  consider  what  he  said,  telling 
him,  that  he  feared  he  might  be  guilty  of  his  master's 
death,  and  that  he  should  not  draw  more  innocent  blood 
upon  his  head  ;  for  what  he  now  charged  his  mother  and 
brother  with,  might  cost  them  their  lives  ;  but  he  affirming 
that  he  spoke  nothing  but  the  truth,  and  that  if  he  were 
immediately  to  die,  he  would  justify  it,  the  Justice  desired 
him  to  declare  how  and  when  they  did  it. 

He  then  told  him  that  his  mother  and  his  brother  had 
Iain  at  him,  ever  since  he  came  into  his  master's  service, 
to  help  them  to  money,  telling  him  how  poor  they  were, 
and  that  it  was  in  his  power  to  relieve  them,  by  giving  them 
notice  when  his  master  went  to  receive  his  lady's  rent ; 
for  they  would  then  way-lay  and  rob  him ;  and  further 
said,  that,  upon  the  Thursday  morning  his  master  went  to 
Charringworth,  going  of  an  errand  into  the  town,  he  met 
his  brother  in  the  street,  whom  he  then  told  whither  his 
master  was  going,  and,  if  he  way-laid  him,  he  might  have 
his  money ;  and  further  said,  that  in  the  evening  his  mis- 
tress sent  him  to  meet  his  master,  he  met  his  brother  in 
the  street,  before  his  master's  gate,  going,  as  he  said,  to 
meet  his  master,  and  so  they  went  together  to  the  church- 
yard, about  a  stone's  throw  from  Mr.  Harrison's  gate, 
where  they  parted,  he  going  the  foot-way  across  the 
church-yard,  and  his  brother  keeping  the  great  road, 
round  the  church ;  but  in  the  highway,  beyond  the  church, 
met  again,  and  so  went  together,  the  way  leading  to  Char- 
ringworth, till  they  came  to  a  gate  about  a  bow's  shot 
from  Campden  Church,  that  goes  into,  a  ground  of  Lady 


THE    MUSEUM.  99 

Campden's,  called  the  conygree,  (which  to  those  who  have 
a  key  to  go  through  the  garden,  is  the  next  way  from  that 
place  to  Mr.  Harrison's  house ;)  when  they  came  near 
unto  the  gate,  he,  the  said  John  Perry  saith,  he  told  his 
brother,  he  did  believe  that  his  master  had  just  gone  into 
the  conygree,  (for  it  was  then  so  dark  they  could  not  dis- 
cern any  man  so  as  to  know  him,)  but  perceiving  one  to 
go  into  that  ground,  and  knowing  there  was  no  way,  but 
for  those  who  had  a  key,  through  the  garden,  concluded 
it  was  his  master ;  and  so  told  his  brother,  if  he  followed 
him,  he  might  have  his  money,  and  he,  in  the  mean  time, 
would  walk  a  turn  in  the  fields,  which  accordingly  he  did  ; 
and  then,  following  his  brotner  about  the  middle  of  the 
conygree,  found  his  master  on  the  ground,  his  brother 
upon  him,  and  his  mother  standing  by ;  and  being  asked, 
whether  his  master  was  then  dead  ?  answered,  no,  for  that, 
after  he  came  to  them,  his  master  cried,  "  Ah,  rogues,  will 
you  kill  me  ?"  at  which  he  told  his  brother,  he  hoped  he 
would  not  kill  his  master ;  who  replied,  "  Peace,  peace, 
you  are  a  fool,"  and  so  strangled  him  ;  which  having  done, 
he  took  a  bag  of  money  out  of  his  pocket,  and  threw  it 
into  his  mother's  lap,  and  then  he  and  his  brother  carried 
his  master's  dead  body  into  the  garden,  adjoining  to  the 
conygree,  where  they  consulted  what  to  do  with  it ;  and, 
at  length  agreed  to  throw  it  into  the  great  sink  by  Wel- 
lington's mill,  behind  the  garden ;  but  said,  his  mother  and 
brother  bade  him  go  up  to  the  court  next  to  the  house,  to 
hearken  whether  any  one  were  stirring,  and  they  would 
throw  the  body  into  the  sink ;  and  being  asked  whether  it 
was  there,  he  said  he  knew  not,  for  that  he  left  it  in  the 
garden  ;  but  his  mother  and  brother  said  they  would 
throw  it  there,  and  if  it  were  not  there,  he  knew  not 
where  it  was,  for  he  returned  no  more  to  them,  but  went 
into  the  court-gate  which  goes  into  the  town,  where  he 
met  John  Pearce,  with  whom  he  went  into  the  field, 
and  again  returned  with  him  to  his  master's  gate  ;  after 
which,  he  went  into  the  hen-roost,  where  he  lay  till  twelve 
o'clock  that  night,  but  slept  not :  and  having,  when  he 
came  from  his  mother  and  brother,  brought  with  him  his 
master's  hat,  band,  and  comb,  which  he  laid  in  the  hen- 
roost, he  carried  the  said  hat,  band,  and  comb,  and  threw 


100  THE    MUSEUM. 

them,  after  he  had  given  them  three  or  four  cuts  with  his 
knife,  in  the  highway,  where  they  were  afterwards  found, 
and  being  asked,  what  he  intended  by  so  doing  ?  said  he 
did  it,  that  it  might  be  believed  his  master  had  been  there 
robbed  and  murdered  ;  and,  having  thus  disposed  of  his 
hat,  band,  and  comb,  he  went  towards  Charringworth, 
&c.,  as  hath  been  related. 

On  this  confession  and  accusation,  the  Justice  of  Peace 
gave  orders  for  the  apprehending  of  Joan  and  Richard 
Perry,  and  for  searching  the  sink  where  Mr.  Harrison's 
body  was  said  to  be  thrown,  which  was  accordingly  done, 
but  nothing  of  him  could  be  there  found  ;  the  fish-pools 
likewise,  in  Campden,  were  drawn  and  searched,  but  no- 
thing could  be  there  found  neither ;  so  that  some  were  of 
opinion,  the  body  might  be  hid  in  the  ruins  of  Campden- 
house,  burnt  in  the  late  wars,  and  not  unfit  for  such  a 
concealment,  where  likewise  search  was  made,  but  all 
in  vain. 

Saturday,  August  the  twenty-fifth,  Joan  and  Richard 
Perry,  together  with  John  Perry,  were  brought  before  the 
Justice  of  Peace,  who  acquainted  the  said  Joan  and  Rich- 
ard with  what  John  had  laid  to  their  charge  ;  they  denied 
all,  with  many  imprecations  on  themselves,  if  they  were 
in  the  least  guilty  of  any  thing  of  which  they  were  accu- 
sed :  but  John  on  the  other  side,  affirmed  to  their  faces 
that  he  had  spoken  nothing  but  the  truth,  and  that  they 
had  murdered  his  master ;  further  telling  them,  that  he 
could  never  be  quiet  for  them,  since  he  came  into  his  mas- 
ter's service,  being  continually  followed  by  them  to  help 
them  to  money,  which  they  told  him  he  might  do,  by  giv- 
ing them  notice  when  his  master  went  to  receive  his  lady's 
rents  ;  and  that  he,  meeting  his  brother  Richard  in  Camp- 
den  town,  the  Thursday  morning  his  master  went  to  Char- 
ringworth, told  him  whither  he  was  going,  and  upon  what 
errand.  Richard  confessed  he  met  his  brother  that  morn- 
ing, and  spoke  to  him,  but  nothing  passed  between  them 
to  that  purpose ;  and  both  he  and  his  mother  told  John  he 
was  a  villain  to  accuse  them  wrongfully,  as  he  had  done ; 
but  John,  on  the  other  side,  affirmed  he  had  spoken  no- 
thing but  the  truth,  and  would  justify  it  to  his  death. 

One  remarkable  circumstance  happened  in  these  prison- 


THE    MTTSEUM.  101 

ers'  return  from  the  Justice  of  Peace's  house,  to  Camp- 
den,  viz.  Richard  Perry,  following  a  good  deal  behind  his 
brother  John,  pulling  a  clout  out  of  his  pocket,  dropped  a 
ball  of  inkle,  which  one  of  his  guards  taking  up,  he  desired 
him  to  restore,  saying  it  was  only  his  wife's  hair  lace  ;  but 
the  party  opening  it,  and  finding  a  slip-knot  at  the  end, 
went  and  showed  it  to  John,  who  was  then  a  good  dis- 
tance before,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  dropping  and  taking 
up  of  this  inkle  ;  but  being  showed  it,  and  asked  whether 
he  knew  it,  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  Yea,  to  his  sor- 
row, for  that  was  the  string  his  brother  strangled  his 
master  with."  This  was  sworn  to  upon  the  evidence  at 
their  trial. 

The  morrow,  being  the  Lord's-Day,  they  remained  at 
Campden,  where  the  minister  of  the  place  designing  to 
speak  to  them  (if  possible  to  persuade  them  to  repentance 
and  a  further  confession)  they  were  brought  to  church ; 
and  in  their  way  thither,  passing  by  Richard's  house,  two 
of  his  children  meeting  him,  he  took  the  lesser  in  his  arms, 
leading  the  other  in  his  hand ;  when,  on  a  sudden,  both 
their  noses  fell  a  bleeding,  which  was  looked  upon  as 
ominous. 

Here  it  will  be  no  impertinent  digression,  to  tell  how  the 
year  before,  Mr.  Harrison  had  his  house  broken  open,  be- 
tween eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  at  noon,  upon  Campden 
market  day,  whilst  himself  and  the  whole  family  were  at 
the  lecture ;  a  ladder  being  set  up  to  a  window  of  the  se- 
cond story,  and  an  iron  bar  wrenched  thence  with  a 
plough-share,  which  was  left  in  the  room,  and  seven  score 
pounds  in  money  carried  away,  the  authors  of  which  rob- 
bery could  never  be  found. 

After  this,  and  not  many  weeks  before  Mr.  Harrison's 
absence,  his  servant,  Perry,  one  evening,  in  Campden  gar- 
den, made  an  hideous  outcry ;  whereat,  some  who  heard 
it,  coming  in,  met  him  running,  and  seemly  frightened,  with 
a  sheep  pick  in  his  hand,  to  whom  he  told  a  formal  story, 
how  he  had  been  set  upon  by  two  men  in  white,  with  naked 
swords,  and  how  he  defended  himself  with  his  sheep  pick  ; 
the  handle  whereof  was  cut  in  two  or  three  places,  and 
likewise  a  key  in  his  pocket,  which,  he  said,  was  done  with 
one  of  their  swords. 

9* 


102  THE    MUSEUM. 

These  passages  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  having  before 
heard,  and  calling  to  mind,  upon  Perry's  confession,  asked 
him  first  concerning  their  robbery,  when  his  master  lost 
seven  score  pounds  out  of  his  house  at  noon-day,  whether 
he  knew  who  did  it  ?  Who  answered  yes,  it  was  his  bro- 
ther. And  being  further  asked  whether  he  were  then  with 
him  ?  He  answered  no,  he  was  at  church :  but  that  he  gave 
nim  notice  of  the  money,  and  told  him  in  which  room  it 
was,  and  where  he  might  have  a  ladder  that  would  reach 
the  window :  and  that  his  brother  afterwards  told  him  he 
had  the  money,  and  had  buried  it  in  his  garden,  and  that 
they  were,  at  Michaelmas  next,  to  have  divided  ;  where- 
upon, search  was  made  in  the  garden,  but  no  money  could 
be  there  found. 

And  being  further  asked  concerning  that  other  passage 
of  his  being  assaulted  in  the  garden,  he  confessed  it  was  all 
a  fiction  ;  and  that,  having  a  design  to  rob  his  master,  he 
did  it — that  rogues  being  believed  to  haunt  the  place,  when 
his  master  was  robbed,  they  might  be  thought  to  have 
done  it. 

At  the  next  Assizes,  which  were  held  in  September  fol- 
lowing, John,  Joan  and  Richard  Perry,  had  two  indictments 
found  against  them  ;  one  for  breaking  into  William  Harri- 
son's house,  and  robbing  him  of  one  hundred  and  forty 
pounds,  in  the  year  1659  ;  the  other  for  robbing  and  mur- 
dering of  the  said  William  Harrison,  the  16th  of  August, 
1660.  Upon  the  last  indictment,  the  Judge  of  Assizes,  Sir 
C.  T.,  would  not  try  them,  because  the  body  was  not 
found  ;  but  they  were  then  tried  upon  the  other  indictment 
for  robbery,  to  which  they  pleaded  not  guilty ;  but  some 
whispering  behind  them,  they  soon  after  pleaded  guilty, 
humbly  begging  the  benefit  of  his  Majesty's  gracious  par- 
don, and  act  of  oblivion,  which  was  granted  them. 

But  though  they  pleaded  guilty  to  this  indictment,  being 
thereunto  prompted,  as  is  probable,  by  some  who  were 
unwilling  to  lose  time,  and  trouble  the  court  with  their 
trial,  in  regard  to  the  act  of  oblivion,  pardoned  them  ;  yet 
they  all  afterwards  at  their  deaths,  denied  that  they  were 
guilty  of  that  robbery,  or  that  they  knew  who  did  it. 

Yet  at  this  Assize,  as  several  creditable  persons  have 
affirmed,  John  Perry  still  persisted  in  his  story,  that  his 


THE    MUSEUM.  103 

mother  and  brother  had  murdered  his  master ;  and  fur- 
ther added,  that  they  had  attempted  to  poison  him  in  the 
jail,  so  that  he  durst  neither  eat  or  drink  with  them. 

At  the  next  Assizes,  which  were  the  spring  following, 
John,  Joan,  and  Richard  Perry,  were,  by  the  then  Judge 
of  the  Assize,  Sir  B.  H.,  tried  upon  the  indictment  of  mur- 
der, and  pleaded  thereunto,  severally,  not  guilty  ;  and, 
when  John's  confession,  before  the  justice,  was  proved, 
viva  voce,  by  several  witnesses  who  heard  the  same,  he 
told  them  he  was  then  mad,  and  knew  not  what  he  said. 

The  other  two,  Richard  and  Joan  Perry,  said  they  were 
wholly  innocent  of  what  they  were  accused,  and  that  they 
knew  nothing  of  Mr.  Harrison's  death,  nor  what  was  be- 
come of  him ;  and  Richard  said  that  his  brother  had 
accused  others,  as  well  as  him,  to  have  murdered  his  mas- 
ter ;  which  the  Judge  bidding  him  prove,  he  said,  that  most 
of  those  who  had  given  evidence  against  him,  knew  it ; 
but  naming  none,  not  any  spoke  of  it,  and  so  the  jury 
found  them  all  three  guilty. 

Some  few  days  after,  being  brought  to  the  place  of  exe- 
cution which  was  on  Broadway-hill,  in  sight  of  Campden, 
the  mother  (being  reputed  a  witch,  and  to  have  bewitched 
her  sons,  they  could  confess  nothing  while  she  lived)  was 
first  executed  ;  after  which,  Richard,  being  upon  the  lad- 
der, professed,  as  he  had  done  all  along,  that  he  was 
wholly  innocent  of  the  act  for  which  he  was  then  to  die, 
and  that  he  knew  nothing  of  Mr.  Harrison's  death,  nor 
what  was  become  of  him  ;  and  did,  with  great  earnestness, 
beg  and  beseech  his  brother,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the 
whole  world,  and  his  own  conscience,  to  declare  what  he 
knew  concerning  him ;  but  he,  with  a  dogged  and  surly 
carriage,  told  the  people  he  was  not  obliged  to  confess  to 
them  ;  yet  immediately  before  his  death,  said  he  knew  no- 
thing of  his  master's  death,  nor  what  was  become  of  him, 
but  they  might  possibly  hear.  Some  few  years  afterwards, 
Harrison  was  heard  of,  and  the  following  is  his  reply  to  a 
letter  from  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  of  Burton,  County  of 
Gloucester,  Knt.,  and  one  of  his  Majesty's  Justices  of  the 
Peace,  inquiring  the  particulars  of  this  most  mysterious 
affair. 


104  THE    MUSEUM. 


For  Sir  T.  Overbury,  Knt* 

"HONORED  SIR, 

"  In  obedience  to  your  commands,  I  give  you  this  true 
account  of  my  being  carried  away  beyond  the  seas,  my 
continuance  there,  and  return  home.  On  Thursday,  in 
the  afternoon  in  the  time  of  harvest,  I  went  to  Charring- 
worth  to  demand  rents  due  to  my  lady  Campden,  at  which 
time  the  tenants  were  busy  in  the  fields,  and  late  before 
they  came  home,  which  occasioned  my  stay  there  till  the 
close  of  the  evening ;  I  expected  a  considerable  sum,  but 
received  only  three  and  twenty  pounds.  In  my  return 
home,  in  the  narrow  passage  amongst  Ebrington  furzes, 
there  met  me  one  horseman,  and  said,  "Art  thou  there?" 
and  I,  fearing  that  he  would  have  rid  over  me,  struck  his 
horse  over  the  nose  ;  whereupon  he  struck  at  me  with  his 
sword  several  blows,  and  run  it  into  my  side,  while  I,  with 
my  little  cane,  made  my  defence  as  well  as  I  could ;  at 
last  another  came  behind  me,  run  me  into  the  thigh,  laid 
hold  on  the  collar  of  my  doublet,  and  drew  me  to  a  hedge, 
near  to  the  place ;  then  came  in  another ;  they  did  not 
take  my  money,  but  mounted  me  behind  one  of  them, 
drew  my  arms  about  his  middle,  and  fastened  my  wrists 
together  with  something  that  had  a  spring-lock,  as  I  con- 
ceived by  hearing  it  give  a  snap  as  they  put  it  on ;  then 
they  threw  a  great  cloak  over  rne,  and  carried  me  away. 
In  the  night  they  alighted  at  a  hay-rick,  which  stood  near 
to  a  stone-pit  by  a  wall  side,  where  they  took  away  my 
money  ;  about  two  hours  before  day,  as  I  heard  one  of 
them  tell  the  other  he  thought  it  to  be  then,  they  tumbled 
me  into  the  stone-pit ;  they  staid,  as  I  thought,  about  an 
hour  at  the  hay-rick,  when  they  then  took  horse  again  ;  one 
of  them  bade  me  to  come  out  of  the  pit ;  I  answered,  they 
had  my  money  already,  and  asked  what  they  would  do  with 
me ;  whereupon  he  struck  me  again,  drew  me  out,  and 
put  a  great  quantity  of  money  into  my  pockets,  and  mount 
ed  me  ;tgain  after  the  same  manner;  and  on  the  Friday, 
about  sun-setting,  they  brought  me  to  a  lone  house  upon  a 

*  Nephew  to  his  accomplished  but  ill-fated  name-sake. 


THE     MUSEUM.  105 

heath,  by  a  thicket  of  bushes,  where  they  took  me  down 
almost  dead,  being  sorely  bruised  with  the  carriage  of  the 
money.  When  the  woman  of  the  house  saw  that  I  could 
neither  stand  nor  speak,  she  asked  them  whether  or  no 
they  had  brought  a  dead  man  ?  They  answered  no,  but 
a  friend  that  was  hurt,  and  they  were  carrying  him  to  a 
surgeon  ;  she  answered,  if  they  did  not  make  haste,  their 
friend  would  be  dead  before  they  could  bring  him  to  one. 
There  they  laid  rne  on  cushions,  and  suffered  none  to 
come  into  the  room  but  a  little  girl ;  there  we  staid  all 
night,  they  giving  me  some  broth  and  strong  waters ;  in 
the  morning,  very  early,  they  mounted  me  as  before,  and 
on  Saturday  night  they  brought  me  to  a  place  where  were 
two  or  three  houses,  in  one  of  which  I  lay  all  night,  on 
cushions,  by  their  bed-side  ;  on  Sunday  morning  they  car- 
ried me  from  thence,  and,  about  three  or  four  o'clock,  they 
brought  me  to  a  place  by  the  sea-side,  called  Deal,  where 
they  laid  me  down  on  the  ground  ;  and,  one  of  them  stay- 
ing with  me,  the  other  two  walked  a  little  off,  to  meet  a 
man,  with  whom  they  talked ;  and,  in  their  discourse,  I 
heard  them  mention  seven  pounds;  after  which  they  went 
away  together,  and  about  half  an  hour  after  returned.  The 
man,  whose  name,  as  I  afterwards  heard,  was  Wrenshaw, 
said,  he  feared  I  would  die  before  he  could  get  me  on 
board ;  then  presently  they  put  me  into  a  boat  and  car- 
ried me  on  ship-board,  where  my  wounds  were  dressed. 
I  remained  in  the  ship  as  near  as  I  could  reckon,  about  six 
weeks,  in  which  time  I  was  indifferently  recovered  of  my 
wounds  and  weakness.  Then  the  master  of  the  ship  came 
and  told  me  and  the  rest,  who  were  in  the  same  condition, 
that  he  discovered  three  Turkish  ships ;  we  all  offered  to 
fight  in  defence  of  the  ship  and  ourselves ;  but  he  com- 
manded us  to  keep  close,  and  said  he  would  deal  with  them 
well  enough  ;  a  little  while  after  he  called  us  up,  and,  when 
we  came  on  deck,  we  saw  two  Turkish  ships  by  us ;  into 
one  of  them  we  were  put,  and  placed  in  a  dark  hole,  where 
how  long  we  continued  before  we  landed,  I  don't  know ; 
when  we  were  landed,  they  led  us  two  days'  journey  :  and 
put  us  into  a  great  house,  or  prison,  where  we  remained 
four  days  and  a  half:  then  came  eight  men  to  view  us, 
who  seemed  to  be  officers ;  they  called  us,  and  examined 


106  THE    MUSEUM 

us  as  to  our  trades  and  callings,  which  every  one  answer 
ed :  one  said  he  was  a  surgeon,  another  that  he  was  a 
broad-cloth  weaver,  and  I,  after  two  or  three  demands, 
said,  that  I  had  some  skill  in  physic.  We  three  were  set 
by,  and  taken  by  three  of  those  eight  men  that  came  to  view 
us.  It  was  my  chance  to  be  chosen  by  a  grave  physician, 
eighty-seven  years  of  age,  who  lived  near  Smyrna,  and 
who  had  formerly  been  in  England,  and  knew  Crowland, 
in  Lincolnshire,  which  he  preferred  to  all  other  places  in 
England  ;  he  employed  me  to  keep  his  still-house,  and  gave 
me  a  silver  bowl,  double  gilt,  to  drink  in.  My  business 
was  most  in  that  place  ;  but  once  he  set  me  to  gather  cot- 
ton-wool, which  I  not  doing  to  his  mind,  he  struck  me  down 
to  the  ground,  and  afterwards  drew  his  stiletto  to  stab  me  ; 
but  I,  holding  up  my  hands  to  him,  he  gave  a  stamp,  and 
turned  from  me,  for  which  I  render  thanks  to  my  Lord 
and  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ,  who  staid  his  hand,  and  pre- 
served me.  I  was  there  about  a  year  and  three  quarters, 
and  then  my  master  fell  sick,  on  a  Thursday,  and  sent  for 
me  ;  and,  calling  me,  as  he  used,  by  the  name  of  Boll,  told 
me  he  should  die,  and  bade  me  shift  for  myself;  he  died 
on  the  Saturday  following,  and  I  presently  hastened  with 
my  bowl  to  a  port,  (about  a  day's  journey  distant,)  the  way 
to  which  place  I  knew.  I  inquired  for  a  ship  for  England. 
I  procured  one,  which  landed  me  at  Dover.  Yours, 

WILLIAM  HARRISON." 
(From  Hargrove's  State  Trials.) 


BARBAROUS    STRATAGEM    OF    A    MOORISH    PRINCE. 

HISTORY  records  a  very  singular  and  cruel  scheme,  pro- 
jected and  executed  by  Mehemet  Almehedi,  king  of  Fez, 
a  prince  not  less  remarkable  for  his  ambition  than  his  re- 
fined craft  and  hypocrisy.  He  had  a  long  war  to  maintain 
against  some  neighboring  nations,  who  refused  to  submit  to 
his  tyranny.  He  gained  over  them  several  victories,  but 
having  afterwards  lost  a  battle,  wherein  he  had  exposed 
his  troops  with  a  blind  fury,  they  were  so  dispirited,  that 


THE    MUSEUM.  107 

they  refused  to  go  against  the  enemy.  To  inspire  them 
with  courage  he  imagined  the  following  stratagem  : 

Having  assembled  secretly  a  certain  number  of  officers, 
who  were  best  affected  to  him,  he  proposed  to  them  con- 
siderable rewards,  if  they  would  consent  to  be  shut  up  for 
some  hours  in  graves,  as  if  they  had  been  killed  in  battle ; 
that  he  would  leave  them  a  sufficient  vent  for  breathing, 
and  that  when,  in  consequence  of  a  superstitious  device 
he  designed  cunningly  to  spread  through  the  army,  they 
should  happen  to  be  interrogated,  they  were  to  answer, 
that  they  had  found  what  their  king  had  promised  them : 
that  they  enjoyed  the  rewards  of  martyrdom,  and  that  those 
who  imitated  them  by  fighting  valiantly,  and  should  die  in 
the  war,  would  enjoy  the  same  felicity.  The  thing  was 
executed  as  he  had  proposed.  He  laid  his  most  faithful 
servants  among  the  dead,  covered  them  with  earth,  and 
left  them  a  small  vent  for  drawing  breath.  He  afterwards 
entered  the  camp,  and  assembling  the  principal  chiefs  about 
midnight,  "  You  are,"  said  he,  "  the  soldiers  of  God,  the 
defenders  of  the  faith,  and  the  protectors  of  the  truth. 
Prepare  to  exterminate  your  enemies,  who  are  likewise  the 
enemies  of  the  Most  High,  and  depend  upon  it  you  will 
never  find  so  sure  an  opportunity  of  being  pleasing  in  his 
sight.  But,  as  there  may  be  dastards  and  stupid  wretches 
among  you,  who  do  not  believe  my  words,  I  am  willing  to 
convince  them  by  the  sight  of  a  great  prodigy. 

"  Go  to  the  field  of  battle  ;  ask  those  of  your  brethren 
who  have  been  killed  this  day  ;  they  will  assure  you  that 
they  enjoy  the  most  perfect  happiness,  for  having  lost  their 
lives  in  this  war."  He  then  led  them  to  the  field  of  battle, 
where  he  cried  out  with  all  his  might,  "  O  assembly  of 
faithful  martyrs,  make  known  to  us  how  many  wonders 
you  have  seen  of  the  most  high  God  !"  They  answered, 
"  We  have  received  from  the  Almighty  infinite  rewards, 
which  the  living  can  have  no  idea  of!"  The  chiefs,  sur- 
prised at  this  answer,  ran  to  publish  it  in  the  army ;  and 
revived  courage  in  the  hearts  of  the  soldiery.  Whilst  this 
was  transacted  in  the  camp,  the  king,  feigning  an  ecstacy, 
caused  by  this  miracle,  remained  near  the  graves  where 
his  buried  servants  wraited  their  deliverance  ;  but  he  stop- 
ped up  the  holes  through  which  they  breathed,  and  sent 


108  THE     MUSEUM. 

them  to  receive  in  the  other  world,  by  this  barbarous 
stratagem,  the  reward  they  had  made  a  declaration  of  to 
others. 


ASSASSINATION    OF    HENRY    IV.    OF    FRANCE,    AND    THE    EXE 
CUTION    OF    HIS    MURDERER. 

THE  French  people  are  notorious  for  the  assassination 
of  their  princes.  The  Duke  de  Berri  was  lately  assassi- 
nated by  Louvel,  and  the  life  of  Louis  XV.  was  attempted 
by  Darnien.  Henry  III.  was  killed  by  a  young  friar,  who, 
pretending  he  had  a  letter  to  present  to  his  majesty,  pro- 
cured admission  ;  but,  instead  of  the  letter,  drew  a  knife 
from  his  long  sleeve,  and  thrust  it  into  the  king's  belly,  of 
which  wound  he  died  :  but  the  regicide  was  cut  in  pieces 
in  the  palace  by  the  nobles.  Henry  IV.  met  with  the 
same  fate  from  one  Ravaillac,  a  lay  friar.  As  the  king 
was  going  in  his  coach  to  the  Bastile,  he  was  stopped  in 
the  narrow  street  by  two  carts  and  a  number  of  people  • 
his  majesty  leaned  himself  forward  to  know  the  cause ; 
upon  which  Ravaillac  put  his  foot  upon  one  of  the  wheels 
of  the  coach,  and  struck  the  king  twice  in  the  side  with 
his  knife,  passing  his  arm  above  the  wheel.  Upon  which 
the  king  cried  out,  "  Jesu,  suis  blesse  ;"  that  is,  Jesus,  I  am 
wounded.  Ravaillac  was  seized,  and  command  given  that 
no  violence  should  be  offered  him,  that  he  might  be  re- 
served to  suffer  the  torture  his  crime  deserved. 

Upon  his  trial  he  said  he  was  born  at  Angouleme,  and 
was  between  thirty-one  and  thirty-two  years  of  age  ;  that 
he  maintained  himself  by  teaching  school,  but  that  his 
mother  lived  upon  alms.  That  he  had  been  received  as 
a  lay  brother  at  the  Feuillants;  but,  after  wearing  the 
habit  about  six  weeks,  it  was  taken  from  him.  That  he 
lodged  at  the  Three  Half  Moons,  in  the  suburbs  of  St. 
James  ;  and  afterwards,  that  he  might  be  near  the  Louvre, 
he  went  to  lodge  at  the  Three  Pigeons,  in  the  suburbs  oi 
St.  Honore  ;  from  thence  he  went  to  take  a  lodging  at  an 
inn  near  the  Quinzevingts.  but,  there  being  too  many  guests 
there,  he  was  refused ;  upon  which  he  took  up  a  knife 


THE     MUSEUM.  109 

that  lay  upon  a  table,  not  on  account  of  his  being  refused 
a  lodging,  but  because  it  seemed  to  him  a  very  fit  one  for 
the  execution  of  his  design,  and  kept  it  for  some  days,  or 
three  weeks,  in  a  bag,  in  his  pocket. 

He  further  said,  that,  having  desisted  from  his  intention, 
he  set  out  on  his  journey  home,  and  went  as  far  as 
Estarnpes ;  that,  when  walking,  he  broke  the  point  of  his 
knife  against  a  cart  near  the  garden  of  Chanteloup  ;  and, 
coming  opposite  to  the  Ecce  Homo,  of  the  suburb  of 
Estarnpes,  he  again  took  it  in  his  head  to  kill  the  king, 
and,  no  longer  resisting  the  temptation,  as  he  had  done 
formerly,  he  returned  to  Paris  with  that  resolution,  be- 
cause the  king  did  not  convert  the  followers  of  the  pre- 
tended reformation,  and  because  he  had  heard  it  reported, 
that  the  king  intended  to  make  war  upon  the  pope,  and 
transfer  the  seat  of  the  holy  see  to  Paris. 

That  he  sought  for  an  opportunity  to  kill  the  king  ;  and 
that,  for  this  purpose,  he  sharpened  with  a  stone,  the  point 
of  the  knife,  which  had  been  broke,  and  waited  till  the 
queen  was  crowned,  and  came  back  to  the  city,  suppos- 
ing that  there  would  not  be  so  much  confusion  in  France, 
if  he  killed  the  king  after  her  coronation,  as  if  he  had  done 
it  before. 

That  he  went  to  the  Louvre,  where  he  had  been  several 
times  since  he  had  resolved  upon  killing  him  ;  that  he 
went  there  last  Wednesday,  and  intended  to  kill  him 
between  the  two  gates,  as  he  was  going  into  his  coach : 
that  he  followed  him  as  far  as  St.  Innocents,  near  which 
he  did  the  act  as  above  related.  Adding, 

That  all  which  now  remained  for  him  to  declare  was, 
his  intention  and  earnest  desire  to  free  himself  from  the 
load  of  his  sins ;  that  the  whole  nation  was,  upon  his  ac- 
count, led  to  believe  that  he  had  been  bribed  by  the 
enemies  of  France  to  kill  the  king,  or  by  foreign  kings  and 
princes,  who  were  desirous  of  aggrandizing  themselves, 
as  was  too  common  among  the  kings  and  potentates  of 
the  earth,  who  do  not  consider  whether  their  motive  for 
making  war  was  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God ;  or  else 
through  a  covetous  desire  of  appropriating  unjustly  to 
themselves  the  territories  of  other  princes  ;  but  that  the 
truth  was,  he,  the  prisoner,  had  not  been  incited  to  that 

10 


110  THE    MUSEUM. 

action  by  any  person  whatever ;  for  if  he  could  have  been 
so  wicked  as  to  have  committed  it  for  money,  or  for  the 
interest  of  foreigners,  he  would  have  acknowledged  in  the 
presence  of  God,  before  whom  he  now  maintained  the 
truth.  That  he  now  therefore  entreated  the  queen,  the 
court,  and  the  whole  nation,  to  believe  him,  and  not  to 
charge  his  soul  with  the  crime  they  commit,  in  supposing 
he  was  prompted  to  that  parricide  by  any  other ;  for  that 
this  sin  would  fall  heavily  on  him,  the  prisoner,  for  being 
the  cause  of  the  uncertainty  they  were  in,  which  gave  rise 
to  their  suspicions  ;  and  he  therefore  implored  them  to  lay 
those  suspicions  aside,  since  no  one  but  himself  was  able 
to  judge  of  the  fact ;  and  it  was  such  as  he  had  confessed. 

It  was  remonstrated  to  him,  that,  since  he  had  neither 
been  injured  in  his  person  or  goods,  by  any  command  or 
ordinance  of  the  king's,  it  was  not  probable  he  would 
make  an  attempt  upon  his  sacred  person,  whom  he  knew 
to  be  God's  anointed,  unless  he  had  been  persuaded  to  it 
by  some  other  persons,  and  had  received  money  from 
them ;  he  being  a  poor  man,  in  want  of  the  necessaries  of 
life,  and  the  son  of  parents  who  lived  upon  alms. 

He  said,  that  it  is  sufficiently  proved  to  the  court, 
through  the  course  of  his  examination,  if  he  had,  through 
the  force  of  money,  or  by  the  persuasions  of  persons  who 
were  ambitious  of  the  sceptre  of  France,  been  prevailed 
upon  to  murder  the  king,  he  would  not  have  come  three 
times  expressly  from  Angouleme  to  Paris,  which  were  a 
hundred  leagues  distant  from  each  other,  to  admonish  the 
king  to  bring  back  the  followers  of  the  pretended  reforma- 
tion to  the  catholic,  apostolic,  and  Roman  church,  as 
being  persons  who  acted  contrary  to  the  will  of  God  and 
his  church :  for  a  man  who  could  be  so  wicked  as  to  suffer 
himself  to  be  corrupted,  through  avarice,  to  assassinate 
his  prince,  would  not  have  come  three  several  times  to 
admonish  him  as  he  had  done  ;  and  that  since  he  had  com- 
mitted this  parricide,  the  Sieur  de  La  Force,  captain  of 
the  guards,  has  acknowledged  that  he,  the  prisoner,  had 
been  at  the  Louvre,  and  earnestly  entreated  him  to  pro- 
cure him  the  means  of  speaking  to  the  king,  and  that  the 
said  Sieur  de  La  Force  told  him  he  was  a  furious  Papist, 
asking  him  if  he  knew  Mons.  d'Epernon ;  to  which  the 


THE     MUSEUM.  Ill 

prisoner  replied  that  he  did  not  know  Mons.  d'Epernon, 
and  that  he  himself  was  not  a  furious  Papist ;  but  that, 
when  he  had  taken  the  habit  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Ber- 
nard, father  Francis  de  St.  Peter  was  appointed  to  be  his 
spiritual  father ;  and,  since  he  was  a  true  Roman,  and 
apostolic  catholic,  he  was  desirous  of  living  and  dying 
such  ;  and  he  entreated  the  said  Sieur  de  La  Force  to 
bring  him  to  the  speech  of  the  king,  for  he  durst  not  de- 
clare to  him  the  temptation  he  had  so  long  had  to  kill  the 
king ;  all  he  wanted  was  to  ,tell  it  to  his  majesty,  to  the 
end  that  he  might  no  longer  be  troubled  with  his  bad 
intention. 

His  trial  being  ended,  the  following  sentence  was  passed 
upon  him  by  the  court,  consisting  of  the  great  chambers 
of  the  Tournelle  and  the  Edict : 

The  said  court  hath  declared,  and  doth  declare,  the  said 
Ravaillac  duly  attainted  of  the  crime  of  high  treason,  divine 
and  human,  in  the  highest  degree,  for  the  most  wicked, 
most  abominable,  and  most  detestable  parricide,  committed 
on  the  person  of  the  late  king  Henry  IV.  of  good  and 
laudable  memory ;  for  the  reparation  whereof,  the  court 
hath  condemned,  and  doth  condemn  him,  to  make  the 
amende  honorable  before  the  principal  gate  of  the  church 
of  Paris,  whither  he  shall  be  carried  and  drawn  in  a  tum- 
bril in  his  shirt,  bearing  a  lighted  torch  of  two  pounds 
weight,  and  that  he  shall  there  say  and  declare,  that 
wickedly  and  traitorously  he  hath  committed  the  aforesaid 
most  wicked,  most  abominable,  and  most  detestable  parri- 
cide, and  murdered  the  said  lord  the  king,  by  stabbing  him 
twice  in  the  body  with  a  knife ;  that  he  repents  of  the 
same,  and  begs  pardon  of  God,  the  king,  and  the  Jaws ; 
from  thence  he  shall  be  carried  to  the  Greve,  and  on  a 
scaffold  to  be  there  erected,  the  flesh  shall  be  torn  with 
red  hot  pincers  from  his  breasts,  his  arms,  and  thighs,  and 
the  calves  of  his  legs  ;  his  right  hand  holding  the  knife 
wherewith  he  committed  the  aforesaid  parricide,  shall  be 
scorched  and  burned  with  flaming  brimstone ;  and  on  the 
places  where  the  flesh  has  been  torn  with  pincers,  melted 
lead,  boiling  oil,  scalding  pitch,  with  wax  and  brimstone 
melted  together,  shall  be  poured :  After  this  he  shall  be 
torn  in  pieces  by  four  horses,  his  limbs  and  body  burnt  to 


112  THE    MUSEUM. 

ashes,  and  dispersed  in  the  air.  His  goods  and  chattels  are 
also  declared  to  be  forfeited,  and  confiscated  to  the  king. 
And  it  is  further  ordained,  that  the  house  in  which  he  was 
born  shall  be  pulled  down  to  the  ground,  (the  owner  there- 
of being  previously  indemnified,)  and  that  no  other  build- 
ing shall  ever  hereafter  be  erected  on  the  foundation  there- 
of: And  that,  within  fifteen  days  after  the  publication  of 
this  present  sentence,  his  father  and  mother  shall,  by  sound 
of  trumpet  and  public  proclamation,  in  the  city  of  Angou- 
leme,  be  banished  out  of  the  kingdom,  and  forbid  ever  to 
return,  under  the  penalty  of  being  hanged  and  strangled, 
without  any  farther  form  or  process  at  law.  The  court 
has  also  forbidden,  and  doth  forbid,  his  brothers,  sisters, 
uncles,  and  others,  from  henceforth,  to  bear  the  said  name 
of  Ravaillac,  enjoining  them  to  change  it  to  some  other, 
under  the  like  penalties;  and  ordering  the  substitute  of  the 
king's  attorney-general  to  cause  this  present  sentence  to  be 
published  and  carried  into  execution,  under  pain  of  being 
answerable  for  the  same ;  and  before  the  execution  there- 
of, the  court  doth  order,  that  the  said  Ravaillac  shall  again 
undergo  the  torture,  for  the  discovery  of  his  accomplices. 
Pronounced  and  executed  the  27th  day  of  May,  1610. 

VOISIN. 

Accordingly  he  was  ordered  to  be  put  to  the  torture  of 
the  bordequin,*  and,  the  first  wedge  being  drove,  he  cried 
out,  "  God  have  mercy  upon  my  soul,  and  pardon  the  crime 
I  have  committed.  I  never  disclosed  my  intention  to  any 
one."  This  he  repeated  as  he  had  done  in  his  interrogation. 

When  the  second  wedge  was  drove,  he  said  with  loud 
cries  and  shrieks,  "  I  am  a  sinner,  I  know  no  more  than  I 
have  declared,  by  the  oath  I  have  taken,  and  by  the  truth 
which  I  owe  to  God  and  the  court.  All  I  have  said  was 
to  the  little  Franciscan,  which  I  have  already  declared.  I 
never  mentioned  my  design  in  confession,  or  in  any  other 
way.  I  never  spoke  of  it  to  the  visitor  of  Angouleme,  nor 

*  The  bordequin  is  a  strong  wooden  box,  made  in  the  form  of  a  boot, 
just  large  enough  to  contain  both  the  legs  of  the  criminal,  which  being  put 
therein,  a  wooden  wedge  is  then  drove  with  a  mallet  between  his  knees, 
and  after  that  is  forced  quite  through,  a  second  wedge,  of  a  larger  size,  ie 
applied  in  the  same  manner. 


THE    MUSEUM.  113 

revealed  it  in  confession  in  this  city.     I  beseech  the  court 
not  to  drive  my  soul  to  despair." 

The  executioner  continuing  to  drive  the  second  wedge, 
he  cried  out,  "My  God,  receive  this  penance  as  an  expia- 
tion for  the  great  crimes  I  have  committed  in  this  world. 
O  God !  accept  these  torments  in  satisfaction  for  my  sins 
By  the  faith  I  owe  to  God,  I  know  no  more  than  what  I 
have  declared.  O  !  do  not  drive  my  soul  to  despair." 

The  third  wedge  was  then  drove  lower,  near  his  feet,  at 
which  a  universal  sweat  covered  his  body,  and  he  fainted 
away.  The  executioner  forced  some  wine  into  his  mouth, 
but  he  could  not  swallow  it ;  and,  being  quite  speechless, 
he  was  released  from  the  torture,  and  water  thrown  upon 
his  face  and  hands.  Some  wine  being  forced  down  his 
throat,  his  speech  returned,  and  he  was  laid  upon  a  mat- 
tress in  the  same  place,  where  he  continued  till  noon. 
When  he  had  recovered  his  strength,  he  was  conducted  to 
chapel  by  the  executioner,  and  Messieurs  Fillesasqs  and 
Gamaches,  two  doctors  of  the  Sorbonne,  being  sent  for,  his 
dinner  was  given  him  ;  but,  before  the  divines  entered  into 
a  conference  with  him,  the  clerk  admonished  him  to  think 
of  his  salvation,  and  confess  by  whom  he  had  been 
prompted,  persuaded,  and  abetted  in  the  wicked  action  he 
had  committed,  and  so  long  designed  to  commit ;  it  not 
being  probable,  that  he  should  of  himself  have  conceived 
and  executed  it,  without  communicating  it  to  any  other. 

He  said,  that  if  he  had  known  more  than  what  he  had 
declared  to  the  court,  he  would  not  have  concealed  it,  well 
knowing,  that  in  this  case,  he  could  not  have  the  mercy  of 
God  which  he  hoped  for  and  expected  ;  and  that  he  would 
not  have  endured  the  torments  he  had  done,  if  he  had  any 
farther  confession  to  make.  He  said,  that  he  acknow- 
ledged he  had  committed  a  great  crime,  to  which  he  had 
been  incited  by  the  temptation  of  the  devil ;  that  he  en- 
treated the  king,  the  queen,  the  court,  and  the  whole  king- 
dom, to  pardon  him,  and  to  cause  prayers  to  be  put  up  to 
God  for  him,  that  his  body  might  bear  the  punishment  for 
his  soul ;  and,  being  many  times  admonished  to  reveal  the 
truth,  he  only  repeated  what  he  had  said  before.  He  was 
then  left  with  the  doctors,  that  they  might  perform  the 
duties  of  their  office  with  him. 

10* 


114  THE    MUSEUM. 

A  little  after  two  o'clock  the  clerk  of  the  court  was  sent 
for  by  the  divines,  who  told  him  that  the  condemned  had 
charged  to  send  for  him,  that  he  might  hear  and  sign  his 
confession,  which  he  desired  might  be  revealed,  arid  even 
printed,  to  the  end  that  it  might  be  known  to  the  whole 
world  ;  which  confession  the  said  doctors  declared  to  have 
been :  That  no  one  had  been  concerned  with  him  in  the 
act  he  had  committed.  That  he  had  not  been  solicited, 
prompted,  or  abetted,  by  any  other  person  whatever,  nor 
had  he  discovered  his  design  to  any  one.  That  he  ac- 
knowledged he  had  committed  a  great  crime,  for  which  he 
hoped  to  have  the  mercy  of  God,  which  was  still  greater 
than  his  sins,  but  which  he  could  not  hope  to  obtain  if  he 
concealed  any  thing. 

Hereupon,  the  clerk  asked  the  condemned,  if  he  was 
willing  that  his  confession  should  be  known  and  revealed  ? 
and,  as  above,  admonished  him  to  acknowledge  the  truth, 
for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  He  then  declared  upon  his 
oath,  that  he  had  said  all  he  knew,  and  that  no  one  had 
incited  him  to  commit  the  murder. 

At  three  o'clock  he  came  from  the  chapel ;  and,  as  he 
was  carried  out  of  the  Conciergerie,  the  prisoners,  in  great 
numbers,  thronged  about  him,  with  loud  cries  and  excla- 
mations, calling  him  traitor,  wicked  wretch,  detestable 
monster,  damned  villain,  and  the  like ;  they  would  have 
struck  him,  had  they  not  been  hindered  by  the  archers, 
and  the  other  officers  of  justice,  who  kept  them  off  by  force. 

When  he  was  put  in  the  tumbril,  the  crowd  was  so 
great,  that  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  the  archers 
and  officers  of  justice  could  force  themselves  a  passage  ; 
and,  as  soon  as  the  prisoner  appeared,  that  vast  multitude 
began  to  cry  out,  as  above,  wicked  wretch,  traitor,  &c. 

The  enraged  populace  continued  their  cries  and  excla- 
mations till  he  arrived  at  the  Greve,  where,  before  he  was 
taken  out  of  the  tumbril,  to  mount  the  scaffold,  he  was 
again  exhorted  to  reveal  his  accomplices  ;  but  he  persisted 
in  his  former  declaration,  that  he  had  none,  again  implor- 
ing pardon  of  the  young  king,  the  queen,  and  the  whole 
kingdom,  for  the  crime  he  had  committed. 

When  he  had  ascended  the  scaffold,  the  two  doctors 
comforted  him,  and  exhorted  him  to  acknowledge  the 


THE    MUSEITM.  115 

truth ;  and,  after  performing  the  duties  of  their  function, 
the  clerk  approached  him,  and  urged  him  to  think  of  his 
salvation  now  at  the  close  of  his  life,  and  to  confess  all  he 
knew  ;  to  which  he  only  answered  as  he  had  done  before. 

The  fire  being  put  to  his  right  hand,  holding  the  knife 
with  which  he  had  stabbed  the  king,  he  cried  out, "  O  God !" 
and  often  repeated,  "  Jesu  Marie  !"  While  his  breast,  &c., 
were  tearing  with  red  hot  pincers,  he  renewed  his  cries 
and  prayers, — during  which,  being  often  admonished  to 
acknowledge  the  truth,  he  persisted  in  denying  that  he  had 
any  accomplices.  The  furious  crowd  continued  to  load 
him  with  execrations, — crying,  that  he  ought  not  to  have 
a  moment's  respite.  Afterwards,  by  intervals,  melted  lead 
and  scalding  oil  were  poured  upon  his  wounds ;  during 
which  he  shrieked  aloud,  and  continued  his  cries  and  ex- 
clamations. 

The  doctors  again  admonished  him,  as  likewise  the  clerk, 
to  confess,  and  were  preparing  to  offer  up  publicly  the 
usual  prayers  for  the  condemned ;  but  immediately  the 
people,  with  great  tumult  and  disorder,  cried  out  against 
it,  that  no  prayers  ought  to  be  made  for  that  wicked 
wretch,  that  damned  monster ;  so  that  the  doctors  were 
obliged  to  give  over.  Then  the  clerk  remonstrating  to 
him,  that  the  indignation  of  the  people  was  a  judgment 
upon  him,  which  ought  to  induce  him  to  declare  the  truth, 
he  persisted  to  answer  as  formerly,  saying,  "  I  only  was 
concerned  in  the  murder." 

He  was  then  drawn  by  four  horses  for  half  an  hour,  by 
intervals. 

Being  again  questioned  and  admonished,  he  persisted  in 
denying  that  he  had  any  accomplices ;  while  the  people  of 
all  ranks  and  degrees,  both  near  and  at  a  distance,  con- 
tinued their  exclamations,  in  token  of  their  great  grief  for 
the  loss  of  their  king.  Several  persons  set  themselves  to 
pull  the  ropes  with  the  utmost  eagerness ;  and  one  of  the 
noblesse,  who  was  near  the  criminal,  alighted  off  his  horse, 
that  it  might  be  put  in  the  place  of  one  that  was  tired  with 
drawing  him.  At  length,  when  he  had  been  drawn  for  a 
full  hour,  by  four  horses,  without  being  dismembered,  the 
people,  rushing  on  in  crowds,  threw  themselves  upon  him, 
and,  with  swords,  knives,  sticks,  and  other  weapons,  they 


116  THE    MUSEUM. 

struck,  tore,  and  mangled  his  limbs  ;  and  violently  forcing 
them  from  the  executioner,  they  dragged  through  the 
streets  with  the  utmost  eagerness  and  rage,  and  burnt  them 
in  different  parts  of  the  city. 


ASSASSINATION    OF    ALBERT    OF    AUSTRIA,    DISPLAYING    THE 
FEUDAL    CONTENTIONS    OF    THE    MIDDLE    AGES. 

ALBERT  went  early  in  the  spring  of  1 308  to  his  western 
dominions,  in  order  to  prepare  for  a  war  against  Bohemia, 
and  established  his  court  at  Rheinfelden.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  John,  the  son  of  his  late  brother  Rudolph,  who 
secretly  repined  at  the  injustice  of  his  uncle,  in  withhold- 
ing from  him,  although  now  of  age,  his  father's  share  of 
the  hereditary  dominions  of  the  house  of  Hapsburg.  The 
king,  unwilling  to  yield  up  those  ample  territories,  had 
formed  the  project  of  indemnifying  his  nephew  by  the 
grant  of  some  distant  provinces  in  Saxony,  which  he  was 
preparing  to  conquer.  Duke  John,  abashed  by  the  pre- 
sence of  Leopold,  the  king's  third  son,  who,  although  not 
older  than  himself,  had  yet  been  some  time  in  possession 
of  high  honors,  and  extensive  domains  ;  and  stimulated  by 
many  of  the  nobility  of  Argau,  who,  weary  of  the  stern 
severity  of  Albert,  looked  for  a  more  lenient  sovereign, 
demanded  anew,  and  with  some  importunity,  the  territo- 
ries his  father  had  held  during  the  life  of  King  Rudolph. 
Irritated  by  repeated  denials,  he  poured  forth  bitter  com- 
plaints into  the  bosoms  of  his  confidential,  and  equally 
discontented  frieteds,  who,  although  conscious  of  their  ina- 
bility to  compel  redress,  yet  resolved  to  convince  Albert 
that  those  who  fear  nothing  are  always  formidable.  Duke 
John  and  several  nobles,  now  conspired  the  death  of  Al- 
bert. These  nobles  were  Walter,  baron  of  Eschenbach, 
whose  estates  and  influence  extended  from  the  lake  of 
Zurich  to  the  Oberland,  who  was  related  to  all  the  prin- 
cipal families  in  the  Argau,  Thurgau,  and  Rhoetia,  but  who 
owed  his  power  and  renown  much  more  to  his  eminent 
virtues  than  to  his  illustrious  birth  and  ample  property ; 
Rudolph,  baron  of  Wart,  a  cousin  of  Eschenbach,  whose 


THE    MUSEUM.  117 

castle  was  situated  in  Kyburgh ;  Rudolph  de  Balm,  from 
Lenzburg,  and  Conrad  de  Tegerfeld,  from  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Baden,  who  had  superintended  the  education  of 
the  young  injured  prince. 

On  the  first  of  May,  in  the  tenth  year  after  he  had 
triumphed  over  and  contrived  the  death  of  his  legitimate 
sovereign,  King  Adolphus,  Albert  set  out  from  the  citadel 
of  Baden,  in  his  way  to  Rheinfelden,  accompanied  by  Lan- 
denberg,  Everhard  de  Waldsee,  on  whose  account  he  had 
forfeited  the  affections  of  his  Austrian  subjects,  Burcard, 
count  of  Hohenberg,  his  cousin,  and  several  other  nobles 
and  attendants.  Being  arrived  at  the  ferry  over  the 
Reuss,  near  Windish,  the  king  was,  under  pretence  that 
the  boat  must  not  be  overburdened,  insensibly  led  away 
by  the  conspirators,  to  some  distance  from  his  retinue. 
He  was  riding  leisurely  across  some  cornfields,  bordering 
on  the  hills  of  Hapsburg,  and  conversing  with  Walter  dv. 
Castelen,  a  knight  whom  he  had  met  on  his  way,  when 
duke  John,  approaching  on  a  sudden,  exclaimed,  '•  Take 
this  as  a  reward  for  thy  injustice  ;"  and  thrust  his  spear 
into  the  neck  of  Albert.  Balm  hereupon  rushed  in,  and 
pierced  his  body ;  Eschenbach  clove  his  head  ;  Wart  stood 
aghast,  and  Castelen  iled.  The  king,  streaming  with  blood, 
sunk  to  the  ground,  and  soon  after  expired  in  the  arms  of 
a  poor  woman,  who  seeing  his  deplorable  condition,  had 
hastened  to  his  assistance.  He  had  before  escaped  two 
similar  conspiracies ;  but  this  third,  the  contrivance  of  an 
insulted  kinsman,*  proved  fatal. 

Duke  John  and  his  friends,  struck  with  a  sudden  panic, 
as  if  this  had  not  been  a  premeditated  and  wilful  act,  fled 
different  ways,  and  met  no  more  after  this  portentous  hour. 
The  duke  escaping  into  the  mountains,  lay  a  few  days 
concealed  at  Einsidlen,  and  lurked  some  time,  solitary  and 
forlorn,  in  the  adjacent  woods  ;  he  then  assumed  the  habit 
of  a  monk,  and  wandered  into  Italy.  King  Henry,  of  Lux- 
emburg, saw  him  at  Pisa,  in  the  year  1313,  after  which  he 
disappeared,  and  consumed  the  remainder  of  his  days  in 


*  In  answer  to  one  of  duke  John's  most  urgent  solicitations  for  his  in- 
heritance, the  king  presented  him  with  a  chaplet  of  flowers,  observing,  that 
*  this  best  became  his  years." 


118  THE    MUSEUM. 

profound  obscurity :  nor  has  it  ever  been  authentically 
disproved,  that  a  blind  beggar,  who  was  seen  many  years 
after,  receiving  alms  at  the  new  market  in  Vienna,  was 
actually,  as  he  asserted,  the  son  of  this  unfortunate  prince, 
and  grandson  to  the  great  Rudolph.  It  is  not  known 
where  and  how  soon  Balm  ended  his  hapless  days.  Teger- 
feld  was  never  after  heard  of.  Eschenbach  fled  with  Wart 
up  the  river  Aar,  to  the  castle  of  his  uncle,  at  Falckenstein. 
He  is  known  to  have  lived  thirty-five  years  afterward,  as  a 
shepherd,  in  the  country  of  Wurtemburg,  where  he  dis- 
closed his  rank  shortly  before  his  death,  and  was  buried 
with  the  honors  due  to  his  illustrious  birth.  The  baron  oJ 
Wart,  who  had  seen,  but  no  way  participated  in  the  bloody 
deed,  was  betrayed  by  some  of  his  relations  into  the  hands 
of  the  sons  of  Albert,  and  by  them  instantly  sentenced  to 
death.  While  with  broken  limbs  he  lay  agonizing  on  a 
wheel,  he  still,  with  manly  fortitude,  declared  himself  in- 
nocent of  the  crime  for  which  he  suffered.  "  And  indeed," 
he  added,  "  those  also  who  have  committed  the  deed,  are 
guiltless  of  a  crime.  They  have,  in  fact,  destroyed  a  mon- 
ster, who,  violating  all  ties  of  honor  and  religion,  had  laid 
bloody  hands  on  his  liege  lord  and  sovereign ;  and,  in  de- 
fiance of  all  justice  and  equity,  withheld  from  his  nephew 
his  lawful  patrimony,  and  who  truly  deserved  to  suffer  the 
tortures  I  now  endure.  May  God  take  pity  on  me,  and 
pardon  my  transgressions  !"  His  wife,  (a  lady  of  the  house 
of  Balm,)  after  having  in  vain  prostrated  herself  at  the  feet 
of  Agnes,  daughter  of  Albert  and  queen  of  Hungary,  and 
conjured  her,  by  the  mercy  she  hoped  to  find  on  the  day 
of  judgment,  to  take  compassion  on  the  unhappy  baron 
attended  her  husband  to  the  place  of  execution.  She  con- 
tinued three  days  and  three  nights  at  the  foot  of  the  wheel, 
in  constant  prayer,  and  without  sustenance,  until  he  ex- 
pired. She  then  went  on  foot  to  Basle,  where  she  soon 
after  died,  oppressed  with  grief.  Russeling,  a  servant  of 
the  baron,  shared  in  the  fate  of  his  unhappy  master. 

Duke  Leopold  having  collected  forces,  marched  against 
the  castle  of  Wart,  took  and  demolished  it,  and  put  to  the 
sword  all  the  retainers  of  the  baron  who  had  attempted  to 
defend  it.  John,  a  brother  of  baron  Rudolph,  although  he 
had  been  in  no  ways  concerned  in  the  conspiracy,  was, 


THE     M  U  S  E  IT  M  . 


nevertheless,  despoiled  of  all  his  property,  and  left  to  pine 
away  in  necessitous  life,  in  a  remote  and  wretched  cot- 
tage, once  the  property  of  his  forefathers.  Farwangen, 
the  principal  seat  of  the  family  of  Balm,  surrendered  on  a 
promise  of  mercy ;  but  no  sooner  was  the  duke  possessed 
of  it,  than  he  and  his  sister  Agnes,  caused  thirty-six  of  the 
garrison,  many  of  them  nobles,  who  all,  to  their  last  breath, 
called  God  to  witness  of  their  innocence,  to  be  dragged  to 
a  neighboring  wood,  and  there  beheaded  in  their  presence. 

Mashwanden,  a  castle  of  Eschenbach,  was  taken,  and  its 
whole  garrison  put  to  the  sword.  In  the  midst  of  the  car- 
nage, a  child  of  count  Walter  was  discovered  by  his  moans 
in  a  cradle,  and  with  much  difficulty  saved  by  the  fero- 
cious soldiers,  from  the  relentless  fury  of  queen  Agnes,  who 
was  preparing  to  butcher  it  with  her  own  hands.  She  was 
then  scarce  twenty-six  years  of  age  ! ! 

More  than  one  thousand  men,  women  and  children  hav- 
ing thus,  chiefly  at  the  instance  of  the  relentless  Agnes, 
been  cruelly  slaughtered,  this  queen,  jointly  with  Eliza- 
beth, her  mother,  founded  on  the  field  where  the  murder 
had  been  committed,  the  site  of  the  ancient  Vindonissa,  a 
sumptuous  monastery,  for  the  minorites  and  nuns  of  St. 
Clara.  Its  high  altar  was  raised  on  the  spot  on  which 
Albert  had  expired.  This  foundation  has  since  flourished 
under  the  name  of  the  abbey  of  Koenigsfelden.  It  was 
exempted  from  all  contributions  and  secular  jurisdiction. 
The  dowager  queen,  Agnes,  and  many  other  princesses  and 
illustrious  dames,  who  were  desirous  to  ingratiate  them- 
selves either  with  God  or  with  the  court,  conferred  on  it 
ample  endowments  in  lands,  tithes,  jewels,  and  rich  gar- 
ments. Agnes,  who  from  her  infancy  had  shown  a  great 
aversion  to  the  splendors  and  dissipations  of  a  court,  and 
had  reluctantly  consented  to  her  marriage,  fixed  her  abode 
near  this  monastery.  Every  morning  she  attended  the 
celebration  of  mass,  and  all  the  afternoon  she  worked  with 
her  maids  at  some  church  implement  or  decoration.  She 
observed  all  the  fasts  and  ceremonies  with  the  most  scru- 
pulous punctuality,  and  displayed  great  humility  and  bene- 
ficence in  washing  the  feet  of  pilgrims,  and  distributing 
alms  to  the  poor — and  yet  she  in  vain  endeavored  to  pre- 
vail on  a  venerable  hermit  in  the  neighborhood  to  visit  the 


120  THE     MUSEUM. 

church  of  the  monastery.  "  They,"  said  he,  "  who  shed 
innocent  blood,  and  found  convents  with  the  spoils  of  the 
victims,  can  never  be  truly  pious.  The  Father  of  mercies 
delights  in  benignity  and  forgiveness."  Others  have  re- 
corded also  of  this  queen,  that  she  possessed  uncommon 
vigor  and  activity  of  mind,  but  that  her  great  semblance 
of  piety  could  not  always  be  relied  on  with  safety. 

Thus  ended  the  restless  ambition  of  Albert,  which,  while 
it  cost  him  the  love  of  all  his  subjects,  and  the  confidence 
of  his  contemporary  princes,  terminated,  ultimately,  in  his 
own  untimely  death,  the  ruin  of  the  only  son  of  a  brother, 
and  the  final  extirpation  of  an  illustrious  race  of  ancient 
barons,  and  of  many  distinguished  vassals.  The  bold 
achievement  of  the  Swiss  meanwhile  drew  on  a  series  of 
hostilities,  which,  in  less  than  a  century,  brought  about  the 
intimate  union  of  all  the  states  of  Helvetia  and  Rhaetia,  and 
finally,  the  establishment  of  their  renowned  confederacy. 
Planta's  His.  of  the  Helvet.  Confederacy. 


THE    CORNISH    MURDER. 

LILLO,  the  author  of  the  tragedy  of  George  Barnwell, 
wrote  another  tragedy,  called  "  The  Fatal  Curiosity,"  which 
was  founded  on  the  following  dreadful  murder. 

"  In  September,  Anno  Christi  1618,  there  lived  a  man 
at  Perin,  in  Cornwall,  who  had  been  blessed  with  an  am- 
ple possession  and  fruitful  issue  ;  unhappy  only  in  a  young- 
er son,  who,  taking  liberty  from  his  father's  bounty,  joined 
with  a  crew  like  himself,  who,  weary  of  the  land,  went 
roving  to  sea,  and,  in  a  small  vessel,  southward,  made  prize 
of  all  they  could  master ;  and  so  increased  in  wealth,  num- 
ber, and  strength,  that  in  the  Straits  they  adventured  upon 
a  Turkish  man  of  war,  where  they  got  great  booty ;  but 
their  powder  by  mischance  taking  fire,  our  gallant,  trusting 
to  his  skillful  swimming  got  on  shore  upon  the  Isle  of 
Rhodes,  with  the  best  of  his  jewels  about  him  ;  where, 
after  a  while,  offering  some  of  them  for  sale  to  a  Jew,  he 
knew  them  to  be  the  governor's  of  Algiers ;  whereupon  he 
was  apprehended,  and  for  a  pirate  condemned  to  the  gal- 


THE    MUSEUM.  121 

eys,  among  other  Christians,  whose  miserable  slavery 
made  them  use  their  wits  to  recover  their  former  liberty ; 
and  accordingly,  watching  the  opportunity  they  slew  some 
of  their  officers,  and  valiantly  released  themselves.  After 
which,  this  young  man  got  on  board  an  English  ship,  and 
came  safe  to  London,  where  the  experience  he  had  ac- 
quired in  surgery  preferred  him  to  be  servant  to  a  sur- 
geon, who,  after  a  while,  sent  him  to  the  East  Indies :  there, 
by  his  diligence  and  industry,  he  got  money,  with  which 
he  returned  home ;  and  longing  to  see  his  native  country, 
Cornwall,  in  a  small  ship  from  London,  he  sailed  westward  ; 
but  ere  he  attained  his  port,  he  was  cast  away  upon  that 
coast ;  where,  once  more,  his  excellent  skill  in  swimming 
brought  him  safe  to  shore.  But  then,  having  been  fifteen 
years  absent,  he  understood  that  his  father  was  much  de- 
cayed in  his  estate,  and  had  retired  himself  to  live  privately 
in  a  place  not  far  off,  being  indeed  in  debt  and  danger. 

"  His  sister  he  finds  married  to  a  mercer,  a  meaner 
match  than  her  birth  promised.  To  her  he  first  appears 
as  a  poor  stranger,  but  after  a  while  privately  reveals  him- 
self to  her,  showing  her  what  jewels  and  gold  he  had  con- 
cealed in  a  bow  case  about  him ;  and  concluded  that  the 
next  day  he  intended  to  appear  to  his  parents,  yet  to  keep 
his  disguise,  till  she  and  her  husband  should  come  thither, 
to  make  their  common  joy  complete. 

"  Being  come  to  his  parents,  his  humble  behavior,  suita- 
ble to  his  poor  suit  of  clothes,  melted  the  old  couple  into 
so  much  compassion,  as  to  give  him  shelter  from  the  cold 
season,  under  their  outward  roof ;  and  by  degrees,  his  sto- 
ries of  his  travels  and  sufferings,  told  with  much  compas- 
sion to  the  aged  people,  made  him  their  guest  so  long  by 
the  kitchen  fire,  that  the  husband  bade  them  good  night, 
and  went  to  bed.  Soon  after,  his  true  stories  working 
compassion  in  the  weaker  vessel,  she  wept,  and  so  did  he. 
But  withal,  he,  taking  pity  on  her  tears,  comforted  her 
with  a  piece  of  gold,  which  gave  her  assurance  that  he  de- 
served a  lodging,  which  she  afforded  him,  and  to  which 
she  brought  him.  And  being  in  bed,  he  showed  her  his 
wealth,  which  was  girded  about  him,  which  he  told  her 
was  sufficient  to  relieve  her  husband's  wants,  and  to  spare 
"or  himself.  And  so  being  weary,  he  fell  asleep. 

11 


THE     MUSEUM. 


"  The  old  woman  being  tempted  with  the  golden  bait 
that  she  had  received,  and  greedily  thirsting  after  the  en- 
joyment of  the  rest,  she  went  to  her  husband,  and,  awak- 
ing him,  presented  him  with  the  news,  and  her  contrivance 
what  further  to  do.  And  though  with  horrid  apprehen- 
sions he  oft  refused,  yet  her  puling  eloquence  (Eve's  en- 
chantment) moved  him  at  last  to  consent,  and  to  rise  to  be 
master  of  all  that  wealth,  by  murdering  the  owner  thereof: 
which  accordingly  they  did,  and,  withal,  covered  the  corpse 
with  clothes,  till  opportunity  served  for  their  carrying  it 
away. 

"  The  early  morning  hastens  the  sister  to  her  father's 
house,  where,  with  signs  of  great  joy,  she  inquires  for  a 
sailor  that  should  lodge  there  the  last  night.  The  old  folks 
at  first  denied  that  they  had  seen  any  such,  till  she  told 
them  that  he  was  her  brother,  —  and  lost  brother,  —  which 
she  knew  assuredly,  by  a  scar  upon  his  arm,  cut  with  a 
sword,  in  his  youth,  and  they  were  resolved  to  meet  there 
the  next  morning  and  be  merry. 

"  The  father,  hearing  this,  hastily  runs  up  into  the  room, 
and  finding  the  mark,  as  his  daughter  had  told  him,  with 
horrid  regret  for  this  monstrous  murder  of  his  own  son, 
with  the  same  knife  wherewith  he  killed  him,  he  cut  his 
own  throat.  The  mother,  soon  after,  going  up  to  consult 
with  her  husband  what  to  do,  in  a  strange  manner  behold- 
ing them  both  weltering  in  blood,  wild  and  aghast,  finding 
the  instrument  at  hand,  readily  takes  her  own  life. 

"  The  daughter,  wondering  at  their  delay  in  returning, 
seeks  about  for  them,  when  she  found  out  too  soon,  and 
with  the  sad  sight  of  this  bloody  scene,  being  overcome 
with  sudden  horror  and  amazement,  for  this  deluge  of  de- 
struction, she  sank  down  and  died,  the  fatal  end  of  that 
family.  These  facts  were  soon  made  known,  and  quickly 
flew  to  king  James'  court,  clad  with  these  circumstances. 
But  the  imprinted  relation  conceals  their  names,  in  favor 
of  some  neighbor  of  repute,  and  kin  to  the  family."  —  San- 
derson's History  of  king  James. 


THE    MUSEUM.  123 


SINGULAR    WARFARE    OF    THE    AMERICAN    INDIANS. 

IN  the  year  1779,  when  the  war  with  America  was  con- 
ducted with  great  spirit  upon  that  continent,  a  division  of 
the  English  army  was  encamped  on  the  banks  of  a  river, 
and  in  a  position  so  favored  by  nature,  that  it  was  difficult 
for  any  military  art  to  surprise  it.  War  in  America  was 
rather  a  species  of  hunting  than  a  regular  campaign.  "  If 
you  fight  with  art,"  said  Washington  to  his  soldiers,  "you 
are  sure  to  be  defeated.  Acquire  discipline  enough  for 
retreat  and  the  uniformity  of  combined  attack,  and  your 
country  will  prove  the  best  of  engineers."  So  true  was 
the  maxim  of  the  American  general,  that  the  English  sol- 
diers had  to  contend  with  little  else.  The  Americans  had 
incorporated  the  Indians  into  their  ranks,  and  had  made 
them  useful  in  a  species  of  war  to  which  their  habits  of  life 
had  peculiarly  fitted  them.  They  sallied  out  of  their  im- 
penetrable forests  and  jungles,  and,  with  their  arrows  and 
tomahawks,  committed  daily  waste  upon  the  British  army, 
— surprising  their  sentinels,  cutting  off  their  stragglers,  and 
even  when  the  alarm  was  given  and  pursuit  commenced, 
they  fled  with  a  swiftness  that  the  speed  of  cavalry  cbuld 
not  overtake,  into  rocks  and  fastnesses  whither  it  was  dan- 
gerous to  pursue  them. 

In  order  to  limit  as  far  as  possible  this  species  of  war,  in 
which  there  was  so  much  loss  and  so  little  honor,  it  was 
the  custom  with  every  regiment  to  extend  its  outpost  to  a 
great  distance  beyond  the  encampments ;  to  station  sentinels 
some  miles  in  the  woods,  and  to  keep  a  constant  guard 
round  the  main  body. 

A  regiment  of  foot  was  at  this  time  stationed  upon  the 
confines  of  a  boundless  savannah.  Its  particular  office 
was  to  guard  every  avenue  of  approach  to  the  main  body ; 
the  sentinels  whose  posts  penetrated  into  the  woods  were 
supplied  from  its  ranks,  and  the  service  of  this  regiment 
was  thus  more  hazardous  than  that  of  any  other.  Its  loss 
was  likewise  great.  The  sentinels  were  perpetually  sur- 
prised upon  their  posts  by  the  Indians,  and  were  borne  off 
their  station  without  communicating  any  alarm,  or  being 
neard  of  after. 


124  THE    MUSEUM. 

Not  a  trace  was  left  of  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been 
conveyed  away,  except  that,  upon  one  or  two  occasions, 
a  few  drops  of  blood  had  appeared  upon  the  leaves  that 
covered  the  ground.  Many  imputed  this  unaccountable 
disappearance  to  treachery,  and  suggested  as  an  unan- 
swerable argument,  that  the  men  thus  surprised  might  at 
least  have  fired  their  muskets,  and  communicated  the  alarm 
to  the  contiguous  posts.  Others,  who  could  not  be  brought 
to  rank  it  as  treachery,  were  content  to  consider  it  as  a 
mystery  which  time  would  unravel. 

One  morning,  the  sentinels  having  been  stationed  as 
usual  over  night,  the  guard  went  at  sun-rise  to  relieve  a 
post  which  extended  a  considerable  distance  into  the  wood. 
The  sentinel  was  gone  !  The  surprise  was  great ;  but  the 
circumstance  had  occurred  before.  They  left  another  man, 
and  departed  wishing  him  better  luck. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,"  said  the  man  with  warmth, 
"  I  shall  not  desert !" 

The  relief  company  returned  to  the  guard-house. 

The  sentinels  were  replaced  every  four  hours,  and,  at  the 
appointed  time,  the  guard  again  marched  to  relieve  the 
post.  To  their  inexpressible  astonishment  the  man  was 
gone  !  They  searched  round  the  spot,  but  no  traces  could 
be  found  of  his  disappearance.  It  was  now  necessary  that 
the  station,  from  a  stronger  motive  than  ever,  should  not 
remain  unoccupied  ;  they  were  compelled  to  leave  another 
man,  and  returned  to  the  guard-house.  The  superstition 
of  the  soldiers  was  awakened,  and  terror  ran  through  the 
regiment.  The  Colonel  being  apprised  of  the  occurrence, 
signified  his  intention  to  accompany  the  guard  when  they 
relieved  the  sentinel  they  had  left.  At  the  appointed  time, 
they  all  marched  together ;  and  again,  to  their  unutterable 
wonder,  they  found  the  post  vacant,  and  the  man  gone  ! 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  Colonel  hesitated 
whether  he  should  station  a  whole  company  on  the  spot, 
or  whether  he  should  again  submit  the  post  to  a  single  sen- 
tinel. The  cause  of  this  repeated  disappearance  of  men, 
whose  courage  and  honesty  were  never  suspected,  must 
be  discovered  ;  and  it  seemed  not  likely  that  this  discovery 
could  be  obtained  by  persisting  in  the  old  method.  Three 
brave  men  were  now  lost  to  the  regiment,  and  to  assign 


THE    MUSEUM.  125 

the  post  to  a  fourth,  seemed  nothing  less  than  giving  him 
up  to  destruction.  The  poor  fellow  whose  turn  it  was  to 
take  the  station,  though  a  man  in  other  respects  of  incom- 
parable resolution,  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  must  do  my  duty,"  said  he  to  the  officer,  "  I  know 
that ;  but  I  should  like  to  lose  my  life  with  more  credit." 

"  I  will  leave  no  man,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  against  his 
will." 

A  man  immediately  stepped  from  the  ranks,  and  desired 
to  take  the  post.  Every  mouth  commended  his  resolution. 
"  I  will  not  be  taken  alive,"  said  he,  "  and  you  shall  hear 
of  me  on  the  least  alarm.  At  all  events  I  will  fire  my 
piece  if  I  hear  the  least  noise.  If  a  bird  chatters,  or  a  leaf 
falls,  you  shall  hear  my  musket.  You  may  be  alarmed 
when  nothing  is  the  matter  :  but  you  must  take  the  chance 
as  the  condition  of  the  discovery." 

The  Colonel  applauded  his  courage,  and  told  him  he 
would  be  right  to  fire  upon  the  least  noise  which  was  am- 
biguous. His  comrades  shook  hands  with  him,  and  left 
him  with  a  melancholy  foreboding.  The  company  marched 
back,  and  awaited  the  event  in  the  guard-house. 

An  hour  had  elapsed,  and  every  ear  was  upon  the  rack 
for  the  discharge  of  the  musket,  when,  upon  a  sudden,  the 
report  was  heard.  The  guard  immediately  marched,  ac- 
companied as  before  by  the  Colonel,  and  some  of  the  most 
experienced  officers  of  the  regiment.  As  they  approach- 
ed the  post,  they  saw  the  man  advancing  towards  them, 
dragging  another  man  on  the  ground  by  the  hair  of  his 
head.  When  they  came  up  with  him,  he  appeared  to  be 
an  Indian  whom  he  had  shot.  An  explanation  was  imme- 
diately required. 

I  told  your  honor,"  said  the  man,  "  I  should  fire  if  1 
neard  the  least  noise.  The  resolution  I  had  taken  has 
saved  my  life.  I  had  not  been  long  on  my  post  when  I  heard 
a  rustling  at  some  short  distance ;  I  looked,  and  saw  an 
American  hog,  such  as  are  common  in  the  woods,  crawling 
along  the  ground,  and  seemingly  looking  for  nuts  under 
the  trees  and  amongst  the  leaves.  As  these  animals  are 
so  very  common,  I  ceased  to  consider  it  for  some  minutes  ; 
but  being  on  the  constant  alarm  and  expectation  of  attack, 
and  scarcely  knowing  what  was  to  be  considered  a  real 

11* 


-.20  THE    MUSEUM. 

cause  of  apprehension,  I  kept  my  eyes  vigilantly  fixed  up- 
on it,  and  marked  its  progress  among  the  trees :  still  there 
was  no  need  to  give  the  alarm,  and  my  thoughts  were 
directed  to  danger  from  another  quarter.  It  struck  me, 
however,  as  somewhat  singular,  to  see  this  animal  making, 
by  a  circuitous  passage,  for  a  thick  coppice  immediately 
behind  my  post.  I  therefore  kept  my  eye  more  constantly 
'fixed  upon  it,  and  as  it  was  now  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
coppice,  hesitated  whether  I  should  not  fire.  My  com- 
rades, thought  I,  will  laugh  at  me  for  alarming  them  by 
shooting  a  pig  !  I  had  almost  resolved  to  let  it  alone,  when, 
just  as  it  approached  the  thicket,  I  thought  I  observed  it 
give  an  unusual  spring.  I  no  longer  hesitated ;  I  took  my 
aim  ;  discharged  my  piece  ;  and  the  animal  was  instantly 
stretched  before  me,  with  a  groan  which  I  conceived  to  be 
that  of  a  human  creature.  I  went  up  to  it,  and  judge  my 
astonishment,  when  I  found  I  had  killed  an  Indian  !  He 
had  enveloped  himself  with  the  skin  of  one  of  these  wild 
hogs  so  artfully  and  completely  ;  his  hands  and  feet  were 
so  entirely  concealed  in  it,  and  his  gait  and  appearance 
were  so  exactly  correspondent  to  that  of  the  animal's,  that 
imperfectly  as  they  were  always  seen  through  the  trees 
and  jungles,  the  disguise  could  not  be  penetrated  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  scarcely  discovered  upon  the  nearest  inspection. 
He  was  armed  with  a  dagger  and  tomahawk." 

Such  was  the  substance  of  this  man's  relation.  The 
cause  of  the  disappearance  of  the  other  sentinels  was  now 
apparent.  The  Indians,  sheltered  in  this  disguise,  secreted 
themselves  in  the  coppice ;  watched  the  moment  when 
they  could  throw  it  off;  burst  upon  the  sentinels  without 
previous  alarm,  and,  too  quick  to  give  them  an  opportunity 
to  discharge  their  pieces,  either  stabbed  or  scalped  them, 
and  bearing  their  bodies  away,  concealed  them  at  some 
distance  in  the  leaves.  The  Americans  gave  them  rewards 
for  every  scalp  of  an  enemy  which  they  brought. 


THE    MUSEUM.  127 


SIMEON    STYLITES,    THE    FANATIC. 

THIS  remarkable  man,  who  is  honored  with  a  niche  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  calendar,  was  the  son  of  a  poor  shep- 
herd, of  Silicia,  on  the  borders  of  Syria,  and  entered  on  his 
eccentric  career  towards  the  close  of  the  fourth  century. 
Simeon  was  brought  up  to  keep  his  father's  sheep,  but,  at 
a  very  early  age,  the  imagination  of  the  poor  boy  was 
excited,  or  more  rationally  speaking,  disordered,  into  an 
extravagant  admiration  of  the  glory  at  that  time  to  be  ac- 
quired, by  bodily  mortification  and  self-denial.  To  a  wise 
and  benevolent  deity,  the  misery  endured  for  his  sake  was 
thought  to  be  peculiarly  acceptable  ;  and  the  voluntary  re- 
jection of  his  best  gifts,  entitled  the  wretched  devotee  not 
only  to  the  applause  of  heaven,  but  to  a  reverence  of  his 
fellow-creatures  approaching  to  adoration.  The  mind  of 
Simeon,  thus  prematurely  stimulated,  was  so  struck,  in  his 
thirteenth  year,  with  the  terror  of  the  text,  "  Blessed  are 
they  that  mourn,"  that  he  instantly  resolved  to  forsake  all 
earthly  employment,  and  to  dedicate  his  future  life  to  sor- 
row and  suffering  for  the  faith  in  Christ.  In  conformity  to 
this  holy  resolution,  the  unfortunate  youth  first  applied  at  the 
gates  of  a  neighboring  monastery,  requesting  to  be  received 
within  its  walls,  and  to  be  employed  in  the  vilest  drudgery 
for  the  service  of  the  brotherhood.  His  offer  was  accepted  ; 
but  it  seems  that  the  order  was  not  sufficiently  strict  for  the 
devout  ambition  of  Simeon,  who,  at  the  end  of  two  years 
removed  to  the  monastery  of  Heliodorus,  a  person,  says 
Theodoret,  in  the  way  of  praise,  who  had  spent  sixty-two 
years  so  abstracted  from  the  world,  that  he  was  ignorant 
of  the  most  obvious  things  in  it.  Under  the  auspices  of 
this  judicious  personage,  the  aspiring  penitent  first  began 
to  display  that  loftiness  of  spiritual  conception,  by  which 
he  was  subsequently  so  eminently  distinguished.  The  bro- 
thers of  the  community  were  restricted  to  one  meal  a  day, 
which  they  took  towards  evening ;  Simeon  improved  the 
regulation  in  his  own  case,  to  a  single  repast  a  week,  but 
was  obliged  to  moderate  his  rigor,  at  the  desire  of  the 
superior.  This  unpleasant  restriction  led  him  to  adopt 
greater  privacy  in  his  subsequent  mortifications.  Thus, 


123  THE     MUSEUM. 

esteeming  the  wearing  of  hair-cloth,  and  other  known  bo- 
dy-tormenting apparatus,  as  too  lenient,  he  secretly  appro- 
priated the  rough  well-rope  of  the  monastery  to  his  own 
especial  use.  This  ingenious  substitute,  which  was  formed 
of  twisted  palm-tree  leaves,  the  saint  tied  so  tightly  round 
his  naked  body,  that  it  ate  into  his  flesh,  and  the  fact  was 
discovered  by  the  noisomeness  of  the  ulcer  \vhich  it  crea- 
ted. So  severely  was  his  body  lacerated,  that  it  was  three 
days  before  the  rope  could  be  disengaged  from  the  wound, 
— and  it  was  at  last  separated  by  the  knife  of  the  surgeon, 
at  the  immediate  hazard  of  the  holy  man's  life.  However 
indicative  of  zeal  and  piety,  these  extraordinary  penances 
were  found  exceedingly  troublesome  to  the  less  gifted 
brethren  ;  and  a  ray  of  good  sense  breaking  in  upon  the 
abbot,  he  dismissed  Simeon,  as  either  above  or  below  mo- 
nastic discipline. 

Upon  this  event,  the  ungovernable  saint  repaired  to 
an  hermitage  at  the  foot  of  mount  Thelanissa,  where,  in 
imitation  of  the  Saviour,  he  endeavored  to  pass  the  forty 
days  of  Lent  without  food.  This  wonderful  undertaking 
he  is  asserted  not  only  to  have  accomplished  at  that  par- 
ticular time,  but  the  learned  Theodoret,  a  contemporary, 
vouches,  upon  his  own  knowledge,  for  the  same  absti- 
nence during  twenty-six  Lents  of  his  subsequent  life.  His 
manner  of  passing  the  forty  days  is  thus  detailed  by  the 
above  writer :  "  The  first  part  of  his  Lent  he  spent  in 
praising  God  standing  ;  growing  weaker,  he  continued  his 
prayer  sitting ;  and  towards  the  end,  being  exhausted,  he 
lay  upon  the  ground."  In  all  these  situations  he  was  con- 
tinually seen  by  thousands  of  devotees,  who  crowded  to 
witness  so  edifying  a  spectacle. 

After  spending  three  years  in  this  hermitage,  Simeon 
removed  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  on  which  it  was  situ- 
ated, when,  throwing  together  some  loose  stones  in  the 
form  of  a  wall,  he  made  for  himself  an  inclosure,  but  with- 
out roof  or  shelter,  and  to  confirm  his  resolution  of  pass- 
ing his  holy  life  in  it,  had  his  right  leg  fastened  to  a  rock, 
with  a  great  iron  chain.  The  interference  of  the  dignified 
clergy  of  his  vicinity  was  never  required  to  increase  the 
vivacity  of  Simeon,  but  sometimes  humanely  stepped  in  to 
moderate  it.  In  the  present  instance,  Miletius,  vicar  to 


THE    MUSEUM.  129 

the  patriarch  of  Antioch,  considering  the  chain  as  rather 
out  of  saintly  costume,  told  him  that  a  firm  will,  supported 
by  God's  grace,  was  sufficient  to  make  him  abide  in  his 
solitary  inclosure,  without  having  recourse  to  bodily  re- 
straint. "Whereupon,"  says  a  modern  clerical  narrator, 
"  the  obedient  servant  of  God  sent  for  a  smith,  and  had  his 
chain  knocked  off." 

In  whatever  form  it  exhibits  itself,  the  love  of  fame  is  a 
very  restless  propensity  ;  it  rendered  the  life  of  Simeon  a 
continual  progression  in  his  own  line  of  sanctity.  The 
multitudes  of  people  who  flocked  to  receive  his  benedic- 
tion, most  of  whom  were  desirous  of  touching  so  holy  a 
personage,  became  at  length  a  great  annoyance  ;  and  to 
remove  so  obvious  a  cause  of  distraction  without  offence, 
he  projected  for  himself  a  manner  of  life,  altogether  new 
and  unprecedented.  The  result  of  this  bright  thought 
was,  the  erection  of  a  pillar  within  his  inclosure  six  cubits 
high,  on  the  summit  of  which  he  resided  four  years ;  on  a 
second,  twelve  cubits  high,  he  perched  himself  for  three 
years :  on  a  third,  twenty-two  cubits  high,  for  ten  years ; 
and  finally,  on  a  fourth,  forty  cubits  high,  built  for  him  by 
the  people,  he  abode  twenty  years.  Thus,  in  the  whole, 
he  lived  thirty-seven  years  on  pillars — receiving  the  name 
of  Stylites,  from  the  Greek  word  Stylos,  which  signifies 
pillar,  and  hence  his  usual  appellation  of  Simeon  Stylites. 

The  various  pillars  of  this  poor  lunatic,  did  not  exceed 
a  few  feet  in  diameter  at  the  top,  which  was  inclosed 
around  with  rails ;  on  which,  and  on  his  staff,  the  wretch- 
ed man  reclined  when  he  slept.  The  space  being  so 
small,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  lie  down,  and  a  seat  he 
wholly  declined.  His  usual  food  was  vegetables  and 
water,  with  which  he  was  supplied  as  he  required  them, 
by  admirers  and  disciples.  His  garments  were  formed 
of  the  skins  of  wild  beasts,  an  iron  collar  adorned  his 
neck,  and  such  was  his  ungallant  tenacity  with  respect  to 
women,  he  would  never  suffer  one  to  come  within  the  in- 
closure that  surrounded  his  pedestal.  From  this  elevated 
rostrum,  this  ghastly  and  frightful  spectre  regularly  ha- 
rangued the  admiring  multitude  twice  a  day ;  when  not 
addressing  them,  they  were  equally  edified  by  his  signifi- 
cant acts  of  adoration  and  reverence.  Gibbon  quotes  the 


30  THE    MUSEUM. 

still  existing  account  of  a  curious  spectator,  who  counted 
twelve  hundred  and  forty-four  bows,  of  the  indefatigable 
Simeon  on  his  pillar,  during  the  time  that  he  looked  on. 
He  sometimes  prayed  in  an  erect  posture,  with  his  out- 
stretched arms  in  the  figure  of  a  cross  :  but  his  most 
usual  practice  was  that  of  bending  his  meagre  skeleton 
from  the  forehead  to  the  feet.  The  Eucharist  was  fre- 
quently conveyed  to  him  by  a  St.  Domus — and  during 
Lent,  he  often  fasted  on  his  pillar,  as  rigidly  as  he  had 
done  on  terra  firma.  During  a  few  of  the  first  and  last 
years,  he  was  obliged  to  attach  himself  to  a  pole,  to  sup- 
port him  under  his  abstinence ;  but  in  the  zenith  of  his 
career  he  was  frequently  enabled  to  fast  the  whole  time 
without  requiring  aid  of  any  kind,  so  strong  was  his  con- 
stitution, and  so  gradually  had  he  habituated  himself  to  a 
long  endurance  of  inanition. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  the  watchful  tenacity  of  the 
hierarchy  of  that  period,  even  with  respect  to  the  extrava- 
gances which  it  countenanced.  Madness  and  folly  were 
the  only  roads  to  heaven,  as  coupled  with  obedience. 
When  Simeon  first  took  to  his  pillar,  the  singularity  of  his 
choice  was  universally  condemned  as  vanity  or  extra- 
vagance ;  and  to  make  trial  of  his  obedience,  an  order  was 
sent  him,  in  the  name  of  the  neighboring  bishops  and  ab- 
bots, to  quit  his  new  manner  of  life.  The  saint  instantly 
prepared  to  comply,  which,  when  the  messenger  perceived, 
agreeably  to  his  instructions,  he  informed  him,  that  as  he 
had  shown  so  willing  an  obedience,  he  was  at  liberty  to 
follow  his  vocation  in  God.  The  result  has  been  narrated. 
Simeon  spent  thirty-seven  years  in  the  air, — a  monument 
of  human  folly  and  degradation,  disgraceful  to  the  Christian 
name.  He  died  at  last  of  mortification,  produced  by  an 
ulcer  in  his  foot,  which  brought  him  to  his  end  on  the  2d 
of  September,  A.  D.  459,  when  the  poor  man  bowing  on 
his  pillar,  as  if  intent  on  prayer,  silently  expired,  in  the 
sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age. 

Were  the  above  particulars  verified  only  by  the  Catholic 
legends,  or  even  by  writers  like  Theodoret,  Cosmo,  and 
Simeon's  own  disciple,  Anthony,  who  wrote  his  life,  they 
would  be  undeserving  of  credit ;  but  this  poor  maniac's  ex- 
traordinary manner  of  living,  has  been  attested  by  wit- 


THE    MUSEUM.  131 

nesses  of  all  kinds,  in  consequence  of  the  impression  made 
by  it  on  the  whole  Christian  world  of  that  day.  Pilgrims 
of  all  ranks  visited  Syria  to  obtain  his  prayers.  The  em- 
perors Theodosius  and  Leo,  sought  his  inspired  advice  in 
religious  difficulties ;  and  another  emperor,  Marcian,  even 
went  to  behold  him  in  disguise.  These  are  facts;  the 
legends,  of  course,  go  much  further.  According  to  them, 
miracles  of  all  kinds  attended  his  prayers  and  benedictions ; 
and  even  surrounding  nations  of  barbarians  sought  the 
benefit  of  his  intercessions.  When  dead,  he  was  carried 
to  Antioch  in  solemn  procession,  attended  by  all  the  pre- 
lates of  the  neighboring  country  ;  and  even  to  this  day 
many  Catholic  writers  refer  to  him,  as  a  glorious  confessor 
of  the  cause  of  Christ. 

But  it  is  pleasant  to  see  that  the  folly  of  such  sanctity 
was  not  altogether  invisible  to  some  acute  observers,  even 
in  the  saint's  own  time.  Gibbon  relates  a  jocose  piece  of 
scandal,  propagated  at  his  expense,  which  proves  that  the 
latent  cause  of  so  much  absurdity  was  not  mistaken  by  all 
the  world.  The  squib  alluded  to,  took  its  rise  from  the 
ulcer  in  his  foot,  that  caused  his  death,  which  was  thus  ac- 
counted for : — The  ever-watchful  Satan,  it  seems,  discover- 
ed no  little  spiritual  vanity  lurking  in  the  heart  of  Simeon, 
which  he  was  permitted  to  correct  by  assuming  the  form 
of  the  prophet  Elijah.  In  this  holy  character  the  father  of 
lies  waited  upon  the  saint,  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  and  informed 
him  that  his  merits  were  so  regarded  on  high,  that  the  pen- 
ance of  death  would  be  spared  him,  and  he  had  only  to 
seat  himself  to  be  borne  directly  to  heaven.  The  vanity 
of  Simeon  (continued  these  satirists)  leading  him  to  give 
implicit  credit  to  the  plausible  tale,  he  instantly  put  his  foot 
into  the  chariot,  and  not  only  got  laughed  at  for  his  credu- 
lity, but  so  burnt  in  the  too  ready  limb,  that  an  ulcer  en- 
sued, which  brought  him  to  his  end  ; — a  fiction  so  far  plea- 
sant, as  it  proves  the  existence  of  a  little  humor  and  com- 
mon sense,  in  an  age  of  superstition  and  extravagance. 

So  different,  however,  was  the  general  impression  in 
those  dark  and  declining  days,  that  the  example  of  Simeon 
produced  many  imitators  all  over  eastern  Christendom, 
where  alone  the  mildness  of  the  climate  would  admit  of  so 
insane  a  devotion.  Magelli,  a  domestic  prelate  to  pope 


132  THE     MUSEUM. 

Benedict  XIV.,  wrote  a  grave  dissertation  on  these  fana- 
tics, and  gave  a  plate  in  the  work,  representing  the  pillar 
of  Simeon,  whose  image  on  this  column,  carved  in  silver 
or  in  ivory,  was  at  one  time  very  common  among  devo- 
tees. According  to  this  author,  the  Stylites  prevailed  in 
the  east,  until  the  conquest  of  the  Saracens  put  an  end  to 
the  degrading  absurdity.  The  climate  of  the  west  rendered 
similar  infatuation  impracticable  to  any  great  degree. 
However,  Gregory  of  Tours,  relates,  that  one  Vulfilaic,  a 
Lombard,  placed  himself  on  a  pillar,  in  the  neigborhood 
of  Triers,  but  after  a  short  abode  thereon,  was  ordered  by 
his  bishop  to  quit  a  life  not  endurable  in  that  country.  He 
is  the  only  recorded  Stylite  of  the  west. 

The  5th  of  January  is  the  day  appropriated  to  Simeon 
Stylites,  in  the  Roman  Catholic  calendar,  and  it  is  still 
observed. 


THE    ADMIRABLE    CRICHTON. 

JAMES  CRICHTON  was  a  native  of  Scotland.'  In  the 
course  of  a  short  life  he  acquired  an  uncommon  degree  of 
celebrity,  and  on  account  of  his  extraordinary  endow- 
ments, both  of  mind  and  body,  obtained  the  appellation  of 
"  The  admirable  Crichton,"  by  which  title  he  has  continu- 
ed to  be  distinguished  to  the  present  day.  The  time  of  his 
birth  is  said,  by  the  generality  of  writers,  to  have  been  in 
1551  ;  but  the  earl  ofBuchan,  in  a  memoir  read  to  the  so- 
ciety of  Antiquaries,  at  Edinburgh,  asserts  that  he  was  born 
in  the  month  of  August,  1560.  His  father  was  lord  advo- 
cate of  Scotland,  in  queen  Mary's  reign,  from  1561  to 
1573  ;  and  his  mother,  the  daughter  of  Sir  James  Stuart, 
was  allied  to  the  family  which  then  filled  the  Scottish  throne. 

James  Crichton  is  said  to  have  received  his  grammatical 
education  at  Perth,  and  to  have  studied  philosophy  at  the 
university  of  St.  Andrew's.  His  tutor  at  that  university 
was  Mr.  John  Rutherford,  a  professor,  at  that  time  famous 
for  his  learning,  and  who  distinguished  himself  by  writing 
four  books  on  Aristotle's  logic,  and  a  commentary  on  his 
poetics.  According  to  Aldus  Manutius,  who  calls  Crichton 


THE    MTTSETTM.  133 

first  cousin  to  the  king,  he  was  also  instructed,  with  his 
majesty,  by  Buchanan,  Hepburn,  and  Robertson,  as  well 
as  by  Rutherford;  and  he  had  scarcely  arrived  at  the 
twentieth  year  of  his  age,  when  he  had  gone  through  the 
whole  circle  of  the  sciences,  and  could  speak  arid  write  to 
perfection  in  ten  different  languages.  Nor  had  he  neglect- 
ed the  ornamental  branches  of  education ;  for  he  had  like- 
wise improved  himself,  to  the  highest  degree,  in  riding, 
dancing,  and  singing,  and  was  a  skillful  performer  on  all 
sorts  of  instruments. 

Possessing  these  numerous  accomplishments,  Crichton 
went  abroad  upon  his  travels,  and  is  said  to  have  first  visited 
Paris.  Of  his  transactions  at  that  place  the  following  ac- 
count was  given :  He  caused  six  placards  to  be  fixed  on 
all  the  gates  of  the  schools,  halls,  and  colleges  of  the  uni- 
versity, and  on  all  the  pillars  and  posts  before  the  houses 
belonging  to  the  most  renowned  literary  characters  in  that 
city,  inviting  all  those  who  were  well  versed  in  any  art  or 
science,  to  dispute  with  him  in  the  college  of  Navarre,  that 
day  six  weeks,  by  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  he 
would  attend  them,  and  be  ready  to  answer  whatever 
should  be  proposed  to  him  in  any  art  or  science,  and  in  any 
of  these  twelve  languages,  Hebrew,  Syriac,  Arabic,  Greek, 
Latin,  Spanish,  French,  Italian,  English,  Dutch,  Flemish, 
and  Sclavonian  ;  and  this  either  in  verse  or  prose,  at  the 
discretion  of  the  disputant. 

During  the  whole  intermediate  time,  instead  of  closely 
attending  to  his  studies,  as  might  have  been  expected,  he 
attended  to  nothing  but  hunting,  hawking,  tilting,  vaulting, 
riding,  tossing  the  pike,  handling  the  musket,  and  other 
military  feats  ;  or  else  he  employed  himself  in  domestic 
games,  such  as  balls,  concerts  of  music,  vocal  and  instru- 
mental, cards,  dice,  tennis,  and  the  like  diversions  of  youth. 
This  conduct  so  provoked  the  students  of  the  university, 
that  beneath  the  placard  which  was  fixed  on  the  Navarre 
gate,  they  wrote  the  following  words  :  "  If  you  would  meet 
with  this  monster  of  perfection,  the  readiest  way  to  find 
him,  is  to  inquire  for  him  at  the  tavern,  or  the  house  of 
ill-fame." 

Nevertheless,  when  the  day  appointed  arrived,  Crichton 
appeared  in  the  college  of  Navarre,  and  acquitted  himself 

12 


134  THE    MTTSETTM 

beyond  expression  in  the  disputation,  which  lasted  from 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  six  at  night.  At  length  the 
president,  after  extolling  him  highly  for  the  many  rare  and 
excellent  endowments  which  God  and  nature  had  bestow- 
ed upon  him,  rose  from  his  chair,  and  accompanied  by  four 
of  the  most  eminent  professors  of  the  university,  gave  him 
a  diamond  ring,  and  a  purse  full  of  gold,  as  a  testimony  of 
their  respect  and  admiration.  The  whole  ended  with  the 
repeated  acclamations  and  huzzas  of  the  spectators,  and 
henceforward  our  young  disputant  was  called  "  the  admi- 
rable Crichton."  It  is  added,  that  so  little  was  he  fatigued 
with  his  exertion  on  this  occasion,  that  the  next  day  he 
went  to  the  Louvre,  where  he  had  a  match  of  tilting,  an 
exercise  then  in  great  vogue,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  great 
number  of  ladies,  and  some  of  the  princes  of  the  French 
court,  carried  away  the  ring  fifteen  times  successively. 

We  find  him  about  two  years  after  this  display  of  his 
talents,  at  Rome,  where  he  affixed  a  placard  in  all  the  con- 
spicuous places  of  the  city,  in  the  following  terms :  "  We, 
James  Crichton,  of  Scotland,  will  answer  extempore  any 
question  that  may  be  proposed."  In  a  city  which  abound- 
ed in  wit.  this  bold  challenge  could  not  escape  the  ridicule 
of  a  pasquinade.  It  is  said,  however,  that  being  no  wise 
discouraged,  he  appeared  at  the  time  and  place  appointed  ; 
and  that,  in  the  presence  of  the  pope,  many  cardinals, 
bishops,  doctors  of  divinity,  and  professors  in  all  the  sci- 
ences, he  exhibited  such  wonderful  proofs  of  his  universal 
knowledge,  that  he  excited  no  less  surprise  than  he  had 
done  at  Paris.  Boccalina,  however,  who  was  then  at  Rome, 
gives  a  somewhat  different  account  of  the  matter.  Ac- 
cording to  that  writer,  the  pasquinade  made  such  an  im- 
pression upon  him,  that  he  left  the  place  where  he  had 
been  so  grossly  affronted,  as  to  be  put  upon  a  level  with 
jugglers  and  mountebanks. 

From  Rome,  Crichton  proceeded  to  Venice,  where  he 
contracted  an  intimate  friendship  with  Aldus  Manutius, 
Laurentius  Massa,  Speron  Speronius,  Johannes  Donatus, 
and  various  other  learned  persons,  to  whom  he  presented 
several  poems  in  commendation  of  the  city  and  university. 
At  length  he  was  introduced  to  the  doge  and  senate,  in 
whose  presence  he  made  a  speech,  which  was  accompa- 


THE     MUSEUM.  135 

nied  with  such  beauty  of  eloquence,  and  such  grace  of  per- 
son and  manner,  that  he  received  the  thanks  of  that  illus- 
trious body,  and  nothing  but  this  prodigy  of  nature  was 
talked  of  through  the  whole  city.  He  likewise  held  dispu- 
tations on  the  subjects  of  theology,  philosophy,  and  mathe- 
matics, before  the  most  eminent  professors  and  large 
multitudes  of  people.  His  reputation  was  so  great,  that 
the  desire  of  seeing  and  hearing  him,  brought  together  a 
vast  concourse  of  persons  from  different  quarters  to  Ven- 
ice. It  may  be  collected  from  Manutius,  that  the  time  in 
which  Crichton  gave  these  demonstrations  of  his  abilities, 
was  in  the  year  1580. 

During  his  residence  at  Venice,  he  fell  into  a  bad  state 
of  health,  which  continued  for  the  space  of  four  months. 
Before  he  was  perfectly  recovered,  he  went,  by  the  advice 
of  his  friends,  to  Padua,  the  university  of  which  was  at  that 
time  in  great  reputation.  The  day  after  his  arrival,  there 
was  an  assembly  of  all  the  learned  men  of  the  place  at  the 
house  of  Jacobus  Aloysius  Cornelius,  when  Crichton  open- 
ed the  meeting  with  an  extempore  poem  in  praise  of  the 
city,  the  university,  and  the  company  who  had  honored  him 
with  their  presence.  After  this,  he  disputed  for  six  hours 
with  the  most  celebrated  professors  on  various  subjects  of 
learning ;  and  he  exposed,  in  particular,  the  errors  of 
Aristotle  and  his  commentators,  with  so  much  solidity  and 
acuteness,  and  at  the  same  time  with  so  much  modesty, 
that  he  excited  universal  admiration.  In  conclusion,  he 
delivered  an  extempore  oration  in  praise  of  ignorance, 
which  was  conducted  with  such  ingenuity  and  elegance, 
that  his  hearers  were  astonished.  This  exhibition  of 
Crichton's  talents  was  on  the  14th  of  March,  1581. 

He  soon  afterwards  appointed  a  day  for  another  dispu- 
tation, to  be  held  at  the  palace  of  the  bishop  of  Padua,  not 
for  the  purpose  of  affording  higher  proofs  of  his  abilities, 
but  in  compliance  with  the  earnest  solicitations  of  some 
persons  who  were  not  present  at  the  former  assembly. 
According  to  the  account  of  Manutius,  various  circum- 
stances occurred  which  prevented  this  meeting  from  tak- 
ing place  ;  but  Imperialis  relates,  that  he  was  informed  by 
his  father,  who  was  present  on  the  occasion,  that  Crichton 
was  opposed  by  Archangelus  Mercenarius,  a  famous  phi 


136  THE    MUSEUM. 

losopher,  that  he  acquitted  himself  so  well  as  to  obtain  the 
approbation  of  a  very  honorable  company,  and  even  of 
his  antagonist  himself. 

Amidst  the  high  applauses  that  were  bestowed  upon  the 
genius  and  attainments  of  the  young  Scotchman,  still  there 
were  some  who  endeavored  to  detract  from  his  merit. 
For  ever,  therefore,  to  confound  these  invidious  cavillers, 
he  caused  a  paper  to  be  fixed  on  the  gate  of  St.  John  and 
St.  Paul's  church,  in  which  he  offered  to  prove  before  the 
university,  that  the  errors  of  Aristotle,  and  of  all  his  fol- 
lowers, were  almost  innumerable  ;  and  that  the  latter  had 
failed  both  in  explaining  their  master's  meaning,  and  in 
treating  on  theological  subjects.  He  promised  likewise  to 
refute  the  dreams  of  certain  mathematical  professors,  to 
dispute  in  all  the  sciences,  and  to  answer  to  whatever 
should  be  proposed  to  him,  or  objected  against  him.  All 
this  he  engaged  to  do,  either  in  the  common  logical  way, 
or  by  numbers  and  mathematical  figures,  or  in  one  hun- 
dred sorts  of  verses,  at  the  pleasure  of  his  opponents.  Ac- 
cording to  Manutius,  Crichton  sustained  this  contest  with- 
out fatigue  for  three  days  ;  during  which  time  he  support- 
ed his  credit  and  maintained  his  propositions  with  such 
spirit  and  energy,  that  he  obtained,  from  an  unusual  con- 
course of  people,  unbounded  praises  and  acclamations. 

From  Padua,  Crichton  set  out  for  Mantua,  where  there 
happened  at  that  time  a  gladiator,  who  had  foiled  in  his 
travels  the  most  skilful  fencers  in  Europe,  and  had  lately 
killed  three  who  had  entered  the  lists  with  him  in  that  city. 
The  duke  of  Mantua  was  much  grieved  at  having  granted 
this  man  his  protection,  as  he  found  it  attended  with  such 
fatal  consequences.  Crichton  being  informed  of  his  con- 
cern, offered  his  service  to  drive  the  murderer  not  only 
from  Mantua,  but  from  Italy,  and  to  fight  him  for  1500 
pistoles.  Though  the  duke  was  unwilling  to  expose  such 
an  accomplished  person  to  so  great  a  hazard,  yet  relying 
on  the  report  he  had  heard  of  his  martial  feats,  he  agreed 
to  the  proposal ;  and  the  time  and  place  being  appointed, 
the  whole  court  attended  to  behold  the  performance.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  combat,  Crichton  stood  only  upon  his 
defence  ;  while  the  Italian  made  his  attack  with  such  eager- 
ness and  fury,  that  he  began  to  be  fatigued.  Crichton 


THE    MUSEUM.  137 

now  seized  the  opportunity  of  attacking  his  antagonist  in 
return,  which  he  did  with  so  much  dexterity  and  vigor, 
that  lie  ran  him  through  the  body  in  three  different  places, 
so  that  he  immediately  died  of  his  wounds.  On  this  occa- 
sion the  acclamations  of  the  spectators  were  loud  and  ex- 
traordinary ;  and  it  was  acknowledged  by  all  of  them, 
that  they  had  never  seen  art,  grace  or  nature,  second  the 
precepts  of  art,  in  so  striking  a  manner  as  on  that  day. 
To  crown  the  glory  of  the  action,  Crichton  bestowed  the 
prize  of  his  victory  on  the  widows  of  the  three  persons 
who  had  lost  their  lives  in  fighting  with  his  antagonist. 

It  is  asserted,  that  in  consequence  of  this  and  his  other 
wonderful  performances,  the  duke  of  Mantua  made  choice 
of  him  as  preceptor  to  his  son,  Vincentio  de  Gonzaga,  who 
is  represented  as  being  of  a  riotous  temper  and  a  dissolute 
life.  The  appointment  was  highly  pleasing  to  the  court. 
We  are  told  that  Crichton,  to  testify  his  gratitude  to  his 
friends  and  benefactors,  and  to  contribute  to  their  diver- 
sion, composed  a  comedy,  in  which  he  exposed  and  ridi- 
culed all  the  weak  and  faulty  sides  of  the  various  employ- 
ments in  which  men  are  engaged.  This  was  regarded  as 
one  of  the  most  ingenious  satires  that  ever  was  made 
upon  mankind.  But  the  most  astonishing  part  of  the  story 
is,  that  Crichton  sustained  fifteen  characters  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  his  own  play.  Among  the  rest,  he  acted  the 
divine,  the  lawyer,  the  mathematician,  the  soldier,  and  the 
physician,  with  such  inimitable  grace,  that  every  time  he 
appeared  upon  the  theatre  he  seemed  to  be  a  different 
person. 

From  being  the  principal  actor  in  a  comedy,  Crichton, 
soon  became  the  subject  of  a  dreadful  tragedy.  One  night, 
during  the  carnival,  as  he  was  walking  through  the  streets 
of  Mantua,  and  playing  upon  his  guitar,  he  was  attacked 
by  half  a  dozen  people  in  masks.  The  assailants  found 
that  they  had  no  ordinary  person  to  deal  with,  for  they 
were  not  able  to  maintain  their  ground  against  him.  Hav- 
ing at  length  disarmed  the  leader  of  the  company,  the 
latter  pulled  off  his  mask,  and  begged  his  life,  telling  him 
that  he  was  the  prince,  his  pupil.  Crichton  immediately 
fell  upon  his  knees,  and  expressed  his  concern  for  his  mis- 
take ;  alleging,  that  what  he  had  done  was  only  in  his 

12* 


138  THE    MUSEUM. 

own  defence,  and  that  if  Gonzaga  had  any  design  upon  his 
life,  he  might  always  be  master  of  it.  Then  taking  the 
sword  by  the  point,  he  presented  it  to  the  prince,  who  was 
so  irritated  at  being  foiled  with  all  his  attendants,  that  he 
instantly  ran  Crichton  through  the  heart. 

Various  have  been  the  conjectures  concerning  the  mo- 
tives which  could  induce  Vincentio  de  Gonzaga  to  be 
guilty  of  so  brutal  and  ungenerous  an  action.  Some  have 
ascribed  it  to  jealousy,  asserting  that  he  suspected  Crich- 
ton to  be  more  in  favor  than  himself  with  a  lady  whom  he 
passionately  loved  ;  while  others,  with  greater  probability, 
represent  the  whole  transaction  as  the  result  of  a  drunken 
frolic  ;  and  it  is  uncertain,  according  to  Imperialis,  whether 
the  meeting  of  the  prince  and  Crichton  was  by  accident  or 
design.  It  is,  however,  agreed  by  all,  that  Crichton  lost 
his  life  in  this  rencounter. 

The  time  of  his  decease  is  said,  by  the  generality  of  his 
biographers,  to  have  been  in  the  beginning  of  July,  1583, 
but  Lord  Buchan  fixes  it  in  the  same  month  of  the  preced- 
ing year.  The  common  account  declares  that  he  was  killed 
in  the  32d  year  of  his  age,  but  Imperialis  asserts  that  he  was 
only  in  his  22d  year  at  the  period  of  that  tragical  event, 
and  this  fact  is  confirmed  by  the  nobleman  just  mentioned. 

Crichton's  tragical  end  excited  a  very  great  and  general 
lamentation.  If  Sir  Thomas  Urquhart  is  to  be  credited, 
the  whole  court  of  Mantua  went  into  mourning  for  him 
three  quarters  of  a  year ;  the  epitaphs  and  elegies  com- 
posed upon  his  death,  would  exceed,  if  collected,  the  bulk 
of  Homer's  works  ;  and  for  a  long  time  afterwards,  his 
picture  was  to  be  seen  in  most  of  the  bed-chambers  and 
galleries  of  the  Italian  nobility,  representing  him  on  horse- 
back with  a  lance  in  one  hand  and  a  book  in  the  other. 
The  same  author  tells  us,  that  Chrichton  gained  the  esteem 
of  kings  and  princes  by  his  magnanimity  and  knowledge ; 
of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  by  his  courtliness,  breeding, 
and  wit ;  of  the  rich  by  his  affability  and  good  company  ; 
of  the  poor  by  his  munificence  and  liberality ;  of  the  old 
by  his  constancy  and  wisdom ;  of  the  young  by  his  mirth 
and  gallantry ;  of  the  learned  by  his  universal  knowledge ; 
of  the  soldiers  by  his  undaunted  valor  and  courage  ;  of  the 
merchants  and  dealers  by  his  upright  dealing  and  honesty ; 


THE    MUSEUM.  139 

and  of  the  fair  sex  by  his  beauty,  in  which  respect  he  was 
a  master-piece  of  nature. 


ILL-FATED    LOVE. 

A  GENTLEMAN,  the  youngest  son  of  a  beneficed  clergy- 
man of  high  respectability,  lately  paid  his  addresses  to  a 
young  lady,  of  genteel  family  and  considerable  fortune, 
residing  in  the  same  neighborhood.  Her  uncle  (under 
whose  guardianship  she  was  unhappily  placed)  had  deter- 
mined to  marry  her  to  what  he  called  up  to  rank,  and 
chose  rather  to  see  her  splendidly  miserable,  than  made 
happy  with  a  genteel  competency.  The  lady's  suitor  was 
a  physician,  who,  some  time  back,  took  the  usual  degree, 
with  the  most  promising  hopes  of  success  in  his  profession 
— his  education  polite  and  classical,  added  to  an  amiable 
disposition,  and  the  most  accomplished  manners,  could  not 
fail  of  making  an  impression  on  the  young  lady ;  his  con- 
duct towards  her  testified  his  high  regard,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  was  beloved  with  equal  ardor ;  insurmountable 
were  the  obstacles  raised  by  the  uncle,  in  order  to  prevent 
their  union — he  remonstrated  on  the  impropriety  of  placing 
her  affections  on  a  person  not  possessed  of  one  shilling, 
and  who  could  have  no  expectations,  either  now  or  here- 
after, or  any  paternal  fortune  ;  as  to  the  profession,  it  was 
one  of  the  very  worst,  for  he  might  not  be  called  upon  a 
Guinea  voyage  (as  he  termed  it)  for  years  to  come — and 
in  hopes  of  alienating  her  regard  for  her  lover,  introduced 
into  the  family  a  major  in  the  army,  and  at  the  same  time 
informed  her  she  was  to  consider  him  as  her  future  hus- 
band. It  seems  he  did  not  possess  any  of  those  nice  feel- 
ings of  honor  and  sensibility,  which  should  ever  be  the 
characteristic  of  a  soldier.  He  was  told  of  her  predilec- 
tion for  another,  which  must  ever  prevent  his  prevailing 

upon  a  heart  so  completely  devoted  to  Mr.  M ,  who 

was  then  in  Scotland,  and  his  arrival  daily  expected.  This 
candid  appeal  had  no  effect ;  as  he  had  the  uncle's  con- 
sent, he  considered  there  was  no  other  obstacle  remaining. 
In  vain  did  this  amiable  young  lady,  bathed  in  tears,  en- 


140  THE     MUSEUM. 

deavor  to  dissuade  her  uncle  from  his  cruel  f  ;/*fjose.  L 
fine,  the  wedding  day  was  appointed,  the  clergyman  ar 
rived,  and  with  silent,  suffering  composure,  she  allowed 
the  fatal  ceremony  to  be  performed.  The  uncle,  however, 
was  soon  convinced  of  his  inhumanity — she  had  taken,  in 
the  presence  of  her  own  maid,  a  cup  of  tea  mixed,  as  it 
appeared  afterwards,  with  a  considerable  quantity  of  ar- 
senic. She  said  it  was  the  most  delicious  draught  she  had 
ever  taken.  Towards  the  close  of  the  evening  she  was 
much  indisposed,  and  in  a  few  hours  after  breathed  her 
last.  On  her  dressing-table  was  found  the  following  letter: 

"  'Tis  over,  and  by  the  time  you  receive  this,  I  shall  be 
no  more  ;  yet  the  only  hour  that  I  can  call  my  own,  I  give 
to  you  ;  the  only  one  that  the  hand  of  death  has  not  a  right 
to  interrupt.  Should  I  live,  I  tremble  to  think  what  a 
husband's  rage  might  have  inflicted,  when  he  should  find 
(instead  of  the  happiness  he  expected)  a  cold  and  indiffer- 
ent heart.  Surely  it  was  impossible  for  two  masters  to 
share  my  affection — had  I  survived,  you  would  feel  that 
you  had  robbed  me  of,  what  not  all  my  fortune  could  pur- 
chase, or  the  world  have  power  to  bestow.  Ever  since  I 
was  taught  to  form  a  wish,  it  was  that  of  being  a  tender 
wife  and  happy  mother.  From  the  time  I  could  associate 
an  idea,  I  looked  upon  matrimony  as  the  source  from 
which  we  were  to  derive  finished  happiness  or  accumu- 
lated misery.  Under  this  idea,  alas  !  what  delusive  visions 
of  felicity  did  not  the  accomplished  mind  and  literary  taste 

of  Mr. once  give  me  leave  to  form,  such  as  no  turn 

of  fortune  can  again  recall.  But  what  am  I  saying,  and 
to  whom ;  to  him  who  has  robbed  me  of  my  peace  and  of 
my  life.  Can  he  now  dry  up  those  tears  which  he  him- 
self has  caused  to  flow  ;  or  can  he  heal  those  wounds 
which  he  has  so  deeply  inflicted  ?  But  the  worst  is  past, 
all  the  passions  that  have  distracted  me  since  I  received 
your  unfeeling  mandate,  to  forget  and  be  faithless  to  him 
on  whom  my  heart  doated,  are  hushed,  and  what  little 
spirit  remains,  will  soon  give  way  to  the  Supreme  Direc- 
tor of  all !" 

She  was  in  her  20th  year !  To  the  beauty  of  her  form, 
and  the  excellence  of  her  natural  disposition,  a  parent 
equally  indulgent  and  attentive,  who  died  a  few  years  be 


THE     MUSEUM.  141 

fore,  had  done  the  fullest  justice.  To  accomplish  her  man- 
ners, and  cultivate  her  mind,  every  endeavor  had  been 
used,  and  they  had  been  attended  with  success.  Few 
young  ladies  attracted  more  admiration ;  none  ever  felt  it 
less.  She  died  when  every  tongue  was  eloquent  in  praise 
of  her  virtue,  when  every  hope  was  ripening  to  reward 
them. 


MELANCHOLY    FATE    OF    TEN    SEAMEN. 

THE  following  account  of  the  miserable  fate  of  ten  men, 
who  were  surprised  by  the  savages  in  New  Zealand,  and 
put  to  death  and  eaten,  is  extracted  from  the  journal  of  one 
of  the  crew,  that  was  ordered  to  make  search  for  the  un- 
happy sufferers.  The  ship  Adventurer,  to  which  they  be- 
longed, returned  from  the  South  Seas  in  1774. 

On  the  30th  of  November,  1773,  we  came  to  an  anchor 
in  Charlotte  Sound,  on  the  coast  of  New  Zealand,  where 
the  ship  being  moored,  and  the  boat  sent  ashore,  a  letter 
was  found,  which  informed  us  that  the  Resolution  had  been 
there,  and  had  sailed  six  days  before  we  arrived. 

On  the  first  of  December  we  sent  the  tents  and  empty 
casks  on  shore,  to  the  watering-place.  The  Indians  came 
and  visited  us,  and  brought  us  fish  and  other  refreshments, 
which  we  purchased  with  pieces  of  cloth  and  old  nails ; 
and  they  continued  this  traffic  forten  or  twelve  days,  seem- 
ingly very  well  pleased. 

On  the  13th,  some  of  them  came  down  in  the  night,  and 
robbed  the  tents ;  the  astronomer,  getting  up  to  make  an 
observation,  missed  some  things,  and  charged  the  sentinel 
with  taking  them ;  but,  while  they  were  in  discourse,  they 
spied  an  Indian  creeping  from  the  shore  towards  them ; 
they  fired  at  him  and  wounded  him,  but  he  got  off  and  re- 
tired to  the  woods.  The  report  of  the  gun  had  alarmed 
his  companions,  who  deserted  the  canoe  in  which  they 
came,  and  fled  likewise  into  the  woods. 

The  waterers,  who  were  now  apprised  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  were  out  upon  the  search,  found  the  canoe,  and 
in  it  most  of  the  things  that  had  been  stolen. 


142  THE    MUSEUM. 

Nothing  remarkable  happened  after  this  till  the  17thf 
when  preparing  for  our  departure,  the  large  cutter,  man- 
ned with  the  proper  crew,  under  the  command  of  Mr.  John 
Roe,  the  first  mate,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Woodhouse,  mid- 
shipman, arid  James  Tobias  Swilley,  the  carpenter's  ser- 
vant, was  sent  up  the  sound  to  Grass-cove,  to  gather 
greens  and  wild  celery. 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  the  tents  were  struck,  every 
thing  got  on  board,  and  the  ship  made  ready  for  sailing  the 
next  day.  Night  coming  on,  and  no  cutter  appearing,  the 
captain  and  officers  began  to  express  great  uneasiness, 
fearing  some  treachery  from  the  savages.  They  sat  up 
the  whole  night  in  expectation  of  her  arrival,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. At  day-break,  the  captain  ordered  the  long-boat  to 
be  hoisted  out,  and  double  manned,  with  Mr.  Burney,  se- 
cond lieutenant,  Mr.  Freeman,  master,  the  corporal  of  the 
marines,  with  five  private  men,  all  well  armed,  with  plenty 
of  ammunition,  two  wall-pieces,  and  three  days'  provision. 
Thus  equipped,  about  nine  in  the  morning  we  left  the  ship, 
and  sailed  and  rowed  for  East  bay,  keeping  close  in  shore, 
and  examining  every  creek  we  passed,  to  find  the  cutter  : 
we  continued  our  search  till  two  in  the  afternoon,  when 
we  put  into  a  small  cove  to  dress  dinner.  While  that  was 
getting  ready,  we  observed  a  company  of  Indians,  seem- 
ingly very  busy,  on  the  opposite  shore  ;  we  left  our  dinner, 
and  rowed  precipitately  to  the  place  where  the  savages 
were  assembled.  On  our  approach  they  all  fled  ;  we  fol- 
lowed them  closely  to  a  little  town  which  we  found  desert- 
ed ;  we  searched  their  huts,  and,  while  thus  employed,  the 
savages  returned,  and  made  a  show  of  resistance  :  but, 
some  trifling  presents  being  made  their  chiefs,  they  were 
very  soon  appeased.  However,  on  our  return  to  our  boat, 
they  followed  us,  and  some  of  them  threw  stones.  After 
we  had  dined,  we  renewed  our  search,  and  at  proper  in- 
tervals kept  firing  our  wall-pieces,  as  signals  to  the  cutter, 
if  any  of  her  people  should  happen  to  be  within  hearing. 

About  five  in  the  afternoon  we  entered  a  small  bay, 
where  we  saw  a  large  double  canoe,  and  a  body  of  In- 
dians hauling  her  upon  the  beach.  We  quickened  our 
course  to  come  up  with  them,  but  they  instantly  fled  on  see- 
ing us  approach :  this  made  us  suspect  that  some  mischief 


THE     MUSEUM.  143 

had  been  done.  On  landing,  the  first  thing  we  saw  in  the 
canoe  was  one  of  the  cutter's  rowlock-boards  and  a  pair 
of  shoes  tied  up  together.  On  advancing  farther  up  the 
beach,  we  found  several  of  their  baskets,  and  saw  one  of 
their  dogs  eating  a  piece  of  broiled  flesh  :  we  examined  it, 
and  suspected  it  to  be  human  ;  and  in  one  of  their  baskets 
having  found  a  hand,  which  we  knew  to  be  the  left  hand 
of  Thomas  Hill,  by  the  letters  T.  H.  being  marked  on  it, 
we  were  no  longer  in  doubt  about  the  event.  We  pur- 
sued the  savages  as  far  as  was  practicable,  but  without 
success.  On  our  return  we  destroyed  their  canoe,  and 
continued  our  search.  At  half  past  six  in  the  evening  we 
entered  Grass-cove,  where  we  saw  a  great  many  Indians 
assembled  on  the  beach,  and  six  or  seven  canoes  floating 
in  the  surf.  We  stood  in  shore,  and  when  the  savages 
saw  us,  they  retreated  to  a  rising  hill,  close  by  the  water 
side.  We  were  in  doubt,  whether  it  was  through  fear 
that  they  retreated,  or  with  a  design  to  decoy  us  to  an 
ambuscade.  Our  lieutenant  determined  not  to  be  sur- 
prised, and  therefore,  running  close  in  shore,  ordered  the 
grappling  to  be  dropped  near  enough  to  reach  them  with 
our  guns,  but  at  too  great  a  distance  to  be  under  appre- 
hensions from  their  treachery.  In  this  position  we  began 
to  engage,  taking  aim,  and  determining  to  kill  as  many  of 
them  as  our  guns  could  reach.  It  was  some  time  before 
we  dislodged  them ;  but  at  length,  many  of  them  being 
wounded,  and  some  killed,  they  began  to  disperse.  Our 
lieutenant  improved  their  panic,  and,  supported  by  the 
officers  and  marines,  leaped  on  shore,  and  pursued  the 
fugitives.  We  had  not  advanced  far  from  the  water  side, 
before  we  beheld  the  most  horrible  sight  that  ever  was 
seen  by  any  European  ;  the  heads,  hearts,  livers,  and  lights 
of  three  or  four  of  our  people  broiling  on  the  fire,  and  their 
bowels  lying  at  the  distance  of  about  six  yards  from  the 
fire,  with  several  of  their  hands  and  limbs  in  a  mangled 
condition,  some  broiled,  and  some  raw ;  but  no  other  parts 
of  their  bodies,  which  gave  cause  to  suspect  that  the  canni- 
bals had  feasted  and  eaten  all  the  rest.  We  observed  a 
large  body  of  them  assembled  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  at  about 
two  miles  distance ;  but,  night  coming  on,  we  durst  not 
advance  to  attack  them:  neither  was  it  thought  safe  to 


144  THE    MUSEUM. 

quit  the  shore  to  take  account  of  the  number  killed,  our 
body  being  but  small,  and  the  savages  numerous  and  fierce. 
They  were  armed  with  long  lances,  and  with  weapons  not 
unlike  the  halberts  of  our  sergeants  in  shape,  made  of  hard 
wood,  and  instead  of  iron,  mounted  with  bone.  We  could 
discover  nothing  belonging  to  the  cutter  but  one  of  the 
oars,  which  was  broken  and  stuck  in  the  sand,  to  which 
they  had  tied  the  fastenings  of  their  canoes.  It  was  sus- 
pected that  the  dead  bodies  of  our  people  had  been  divi- 
ded among  the  different  parties  of  savages  that  had  been 
concerned  in  the  massacre ;  and  it  was  not  improbable 
but  that  the  party  that  was  seen  at  a  distance  were  feast- 
ing upon  some  of  the  others,  as  those  on  the  shore  had 
been  upon  what  were  found,  before  they  were  disturbed 
by  our  crew  in  the  long  boat.  Be  that  as  it  may,  we  could 
discover  no  traces  of  more  than  four  of  their  bodies,  nor 
could  we  tell  where  the  savages  had  concealed  the  cutter. 
It  was  now  near  night,  and  our  lieutenant,  not  thinking  it 
safe  to  trust  our  crew  in  the  dark,  in  an  open  boat,  within 
reach  of  these  cannibal  barbarians,  ordered  the  canoes  to 
be  broken  up  and  destroyed  ;  and,  after  carefully  collect- 
ing the  remains  of  our  mangled  companions,  we  made  the 
best  of  our  way  from  this  polluted  place,  and  got  on  board 
the  ship  before  midnight.  About  four  the  next  morning 
we  weighed  anchor,  and  about  seven  got  under  way,  and 
pursued  our  course  home.  In  the  mean  time,  the  surgeon 
examined  the  remains  of  the  bodies  brought  on  board,  but 
could  not  make  out  to  whom  they  belonged  ;  so  they  were 
decently  laid  together,  and,  with  the  usual  solemnity  on 
board  ships,  committed  to  the  deep. 


LOVE    IN    THE    WILDS. 


LATE  in  the  autumn  of  1778,  some  gentlemen  were 
making  a  tour  of  the  western  part  of  New  York,  a  journey 
executed  at  that  time  with  difficulty,  and  in  many  places 
impracticable.  The  sites  of  those  beautiful  towns  and  vil- 
lages, which  now  line  the  road  through  which  the  travel- 
lers passed,  were  then  covered  with  impervious  woods 


THE     MUSEUM.  145 

which  few  men  had  beheld,  and  fewer  yet  had  thought  of 
making  the  scene  of  their  habitations  and  their  homes. 
Tedious  was  then  the  route  which  now  affords  such  plea- 
sure ;  men  hurried  from  a  spot  where  social  intercourse 
scarcely  existed,  and  where  the  solitary  Indian  hunter  still 
reigned  the  undisturbed  lord.  Towards  the  close  of  a 
delightful  autumnal  day,  as  they  were  gently  entering  in  a 
boat  the  beautiful  lake  of  Oneida,  and  had  just  emerged 
from  the  embouchure  of  Wood  Creek,  the  languid  strokes 
of  a  distant  oar  caught  the  ear  of  our  travellers  ;  it  sound- 
ed nearer  and  nearer,  and  they  soon  found  it  proceeded 
from  a  small  canoe,  rowed  by  one  solitary  individual.  As 
it  approached  alongside,  they  asked  him  whither  he  was 
destined  ?  He  sullenly  answered,  he  was  bound  to  Oneida 
Castle.  His  appearance  excited  the  attention  of  the  party : 
his  garments  were  faded,  though  not  in  tatters  ;  his  face 
such  as  a  Salvador  Rosa  would  have  loved  to  portray ; 
his  accent  bespoke  him  of  French  descent.  He  passed  on 
as  if  wishing  to  hold  no  further  converse  ;  and  our  travel- 
lers had  scarcely  ceased  wondering  at  the  incident,  before 
his  canoe  was  far  behind  them. 

The  boat  slowly  proceeded  on,  the  sun  had  sunk  below 
the  horizon,  and  the  shades  of  night  were  thickening  fast., 
when  an  island  of  considerable  extent  appeared  before 
them.  Although  the  party  had  heard  of  its  existence,  and 
the  name  by  which  it  was  known  by  the  boatmen  of  the 
lake,  yet  no  person  was  known  to  have  ever  before  visited 
it,  or  landed  on  its  shores  ;  the  boatmen  called  it,  "  Hoger 
Bust,"  (in  English  "  High  Breast,")  a  Dutch  appellation, 
which  its  appearance  and  situation  rendered  apt  and  ap- 
propriate. The  nearer  they  approached,  they  were  sur- 
prised at  perceiving  marks  of  cultivation ;  convinced  that 
it  must  be  inhabited,  they  shouted  loudly,  but  no  one 
answered  to  their  call.  They  then  landed,  and  notwith- 
standing the  night  had  set  in,  with  lights  which  they  struck 
in  the  boat  they  traced  their  way  through  a  short  wood, 
and  suddenly  entered  at  the  end  of  it  upon  an  avenue  of 
shrubbery,  and  twigs  of  trees  interwoven  in  the  form  of 
lattice-work,  lining  each  side  of  the  walk  ;  at  the  termina- 
tion of  which  a  rude  hut  was  visible.  They  knocked  at 
the  door,  and  it  was  opened  by  a  female,  who  accosted 

13 


146  THE     MUSEUM. 

them  in  French :  they  informed  her  of  the  cause  of  their 
visit,  and  then  asked  her  if  she  was  not  disturbed  by  the 
noise  and  cry  they  made  ?  She  told  them  she  was  not,  for 
she  thought  it  was  occasioned  by  the  Indians,  who  were 
her  friends.  Our  travellers  beheld  her  with  surprise  ;  she 
was  clothed  in  coarse  and  uncouth  attire,  had  no  shoes  on 
her  feet,  and  her  long  hair  hung  in  wild  luxuriance  down 
her  back  ;  her  air  and  mien  were,  however,  those  of  a  per- 
son educated  and  accomplished.  She  seemed  scarcely 
twenty ;  her  size  was  small,  and  her  interesting  appearance 
was  heightened  by  an  eye  full  of  intelligence  and  expres- 
sion. On  informing  her  of  their  wish  to  remain  on  the 
island  during  the  night,  she  politely  requested  them  to  make 
use  of  her  house  ;  this,  however,  they,  with  many  thanks, 
declined,  but  pitched  their  tents  near  it,  whilst  the  barge- 
men slept  on  the  shore,  near  the  boat.  Next  morning,  they 
paid  their  respects  to  the  interesting  recluse,  and  received 
from  her  the  following  particulars  of  her  history:  The  man 
whom  they  had  met  on  the  lake,  was,  she  said,  her  hus- 
band, who  had  gone  to  the  Castle  of  Oneida  to  procure 
provisions.  They  had  been  some  time  inhabitants  of  this 
solitude,  though  not  always  on  the  island  they  now  occu- 
pied ;  they  had  resided  for  months  in  the  Castle  of  Oneida, 
among  the  Indians ;  she  described  them  as  mild  and  un- 
offending, that  she  had  formed  friendships  there  which  had 
even  to  that  day  been  of  service  to  herself  and  husband ; 
and,  as  the  Indians  had  not  forgotten  them,  they  occasion- 
ally left  at  their  secluded  settlement,  on  a  return  from  their 
hunting  excursions,  a  portion  of  their  game.  She  had 
herself,  she  said,  learned  to  fish  and  fowl  ;  had  often  swam 
from  one  island  to  another  ;  and  employed  her  gun  with 
great  success  in  the  destruction  of  wild  fowl.  Such  was 
all  that  the  fair  stranger  was  pleased  to  disclose  of  a  life 
evidently  of  no  ordinary  cast,  and  the  travellers  not  wish- 
ing to  embarrass  her  by  questions  as  to  the  cause  of  her 
seclusion,  intimated  their  intention  of  leaving  the  island 
immediately.  On  hearing  this,  she  flew,  with  an  eager 
avidity  to  oblige,  to  the  garden,  and  with  her  own  hands 
dug  up  vegetables  from  the  ground,  and  presented  them  to 
her  guests.  Before  they  departed,  they  selected  some 
wines  out  of  their  stores,  and  other  articles  which  would 


THE     MUSEUM.  147 

be  luxurious  for  her  in  this  comparative  wilderness,  and 
left  them  where  she  was  sure  to  find  them,  considering  it  an 
indelicacy  to  make  her  a  direct  offer  of  them.  They  then 
left  the  island,  uttering  an  inward  prayer  for  her  welfare. 
On  their  way  back,  they  stopped  at  a  settlement  some  miles 
down  the  lake,  and  having  related  their  adventure  to  some 
of  the  settlers,  were  informed,  that  the  lady  had  been 
once  a  nun  in  France ;  that  she  had  been  taken  from  a 
convent  in  Lisle,  by  the  person  they  met  alone  in  the  canoe, 
and  carried  to  America ;  that  the  cause  of  his  occupying 
the  island  was  his  extreme  jealousy  ;  that  he  rigorously 
restrained  her  from  going  any  where  from  it,  and  had  re- 
fused to  allow  her  to  visit  a  wife  of  one  of  the  settlers, 
who  had  made  a  request  to  that  purpose.  How  strange 
that  such  feelings  should  pervade  a  man  among  the  wilds 
of  the  forest ;  that  he  should  not  think  the  being  on  whom 
he  has  placed  his  earthly  affection  secure  in  a  solitary  isle, 
which  holds  but  her  and  himself  for  its  inhabitants  ! 
From  an  old  memorandum  book  of  one  of  the  party. 


REMARKABLE    PARRICIDE. 

A  MAN  was  tried  for  and  convicted  of  the  murder  of  his 
own  father.  The  evidence  against  him  was  merely  cir- 
cumstantial, and  the  principal  witness  was  his  sister.  She 
proved  that  her  father  possessed  a  small  income,  which, 
with  his  industry,  enabled  him  to  live  with  comfort ;  that 
her  brother,  the  prisoner,  who  was  his  heir  at  law,  had  long 
expressed  a  great  desire  to  come  into  the  possession  of  his 
father's  effects ;  and  that  he  had  long  behaved  in  a  very 
undutiful  manner  to  him,  wishing,  as  the  witness  believed, 
to  put  a  period  to  his  existence  by  uneasiness  and  vexa- 
tion ;  that,  on  the  evening  the  murder  was  committed,  the 
deceased  went  a  small  distance  from  the  house,  to  milk  a  cow 
he  had  for  some  time  kept,  and  that  the  witness  also  went 
out  to  spend  the  evening  and  to  sleep,  leaving  only  her 
brother  in  the  house ;  that,  returning  home  early  in  the 
morning,  and  finding  that  her  father  and  brother  were  ab- 
sent, she  was  much  alarmed,  and  sent  for  some  neighbors 


148  THE     MUSEUM. 

to  consult  with  them,  and  to  receive  advice  what  should 
be  done  ;  that  in  company  with  these  neighbors  she  went 
to  the  hovel  in  which  her  father  was  accustomed  to  milk 
the  cow,  where  they  found  him  murdered  in  the  most  in- 
human manner,  his  head  being  almost  beat  to  pieces  ;  that 
a  suspicion  immediately  falling  on  her  brother,  and  there 
being  then  some  snow  on  the  ground,  in  which  the  foot- 
steps of  a  human  being  to  and  from  the  hovel,  were  ob- 
served, it  was  agreed  to  take  one  of  the  brother's  shoes, 
and  to  measure  therewith  the  impressions  in  the  snow : 
this  was  done,  and  there  did  not  remain  a  doubt  but  that 
the  impressions  were  made  with  his  shoes.  Thus  confirm- 
ed in  their  suspicions,  they  then  immediately  went  to  the 
prisoner's  room,  and  after  a  diligent  search,  they  found  a 
hammer  in  the  corner  of  a  private  drawer,  with  several 
spots  of  blood  upon  it,  and  with  a  small  splinter  bone,  and 
some  brains  in  a  crack  which  they  discovered  in  the  handle. 
The  circumstances  of  finding  the  deceased  and  the  ham- 
mer, as  described  by  the  former  witness,  were  fully  proved 
by  the  neighbors  whom  she  had  called :  and  upon  this  evi- 
dence the  prisoner  was  convicted,  and  suffered  death,  but 
denied  the  act  to  the  last.  About  four  years  after,  the 
witness  was  extremely  ill,  and  understanding  that  there 
were  no  possible  hopes  of  her  recovery,  she  confessed  that 
her  father  and  brother  having  offended  her,  she  was  de- 
termined they  should  both  die  ;  and  accordingly  when  the 
former  went  to  milk  the  cow,  she  followed  him  with  her 
brother's  hammer,  and  in  his  shoes  ;  that  she  beat  out  her 
father's  brains  with  the  hammer,  and  then  laid  it  where  it 
was  afterwards  found  ;  that  she  then  went  from  home  to 
give  a  better  color  to  this  wicked  business,  and  that  her 
brother  was  perfectly  innocent  of  the  crime  for  which  he 
had  suffered.  She  was  immediately  taken  into  custody . 
but  died  before  she  could  be  brought  to  trial. 


THE    MUSEUM.  149 


WONDERFUL    ESCAPE    FROM    THE    BASTILE. 

THE  following  narrative  is  extracted  from  Memoirs  of 
M.  Henry  Masser  de  la  Tude,  a  gentleman,  who  was  con- 
fined thirty-five  years  in  the  state  prison  of  France,  not- 
withstanding he  escaped  once  from  the  Bastile,  and  twice 
from  the  castle  of  Vincennes. 

After  recounting  a  slight  offence  against  Madame  de 
Pompadour,  for  which  he  was  sent  to  the  Bastile,  M.  de 
la  Tude  relates  his  removal  to  the  castle  of  Vincennes,  and 
escape  from  thence  ;  with  his  being  retaken,  and  sent  again 
to  the  Bastile  :  and  then  follows  his  narrative  of  his  second 
escape,  in  company  with  M.  d'Alegre,  his  fellow  prisoner ; 
an  escape  which  perhaps  is  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of 
human  ingenuity  and  perseverance. 

As  we  cast  our  eyes,  says  M.  de  la  Tude,  on  the  walls 
of  the  Bastile,  which  are  above  six  feet  thick  ;  four  iron 
grates  at  the  windows,  and  as  many  in  the  chimney ;  and 
as  we  considered  by  how  many  armed  men  the  prison  is 
guarded ;  the  height  of  the  walls,  and  the  trenches  most 
commonly  full  of  water  ;  it  seemed  morally  impossible  for 
two  prisoners,  immured  in  a  cell,  and  destitute  of  human 
assistance  to  make  their  escape. 

It  was  necessary  to  have  1400  feet  of  cord  ;  two  lad- 
ders, one  of  wood,  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  in  length,  and 
another  of  rope  180  ;  to  remove  several  iron  grates  from  the 
chimney,  and  to  bore  a  hole,  in  one  night,  through  a  wall 
many  feet  thick,  at  the  distance  of  only  fifteen  feet  from  a 
sentinel.  It  was  necessary  to  create  the  articles  I  have 
mentioned  to  accomplish  our  escape,  and  we  had  no  re- 
source but  our  own  hands.  It  was  necessary  to  conceal 
the  wooden  and  the  rope  ladder  of  250  steps,  a  foot  long 
and  an  inch  thick,  and  several  other  prohibited  particulars, 
in  a  prisoner's  room  :  though  the  officers,  accompanied  by 
the  turnkey,  paid  us  a  visit  many  times  a  week,  and  hon- 
ored our  persons  with  a  strict  examination. 

You  must  have  been  confined  in  the  Bastile,  to  know 
how  wretches  are  treated  there.  Figure  to  yourself  ten 
years  spent  in  a  room  without  seeing  or  speaking  to  the 
prisoner  over  your  head.  Many  times  have  there  been 

13* 


150  THE    MUSEUM. 

immured,  the  husband,  the  wife,  and  a  family  of  children, 
for  a  number  of  years,  without  either  apprehending  that  a 
relation  was  near.  You  never  hear  any  news  there  ;  let 
the  king  die,  let  the  ministry  be  totally  changed,  you  are 
not  told  a  syllable  of  the  matter.  The  officers,  the  surgeon, 
the  turnkeys,  say  nothing  to  you  but,  "  Good  morning ! 
Good  evening !  Do  you  stand  in  need  of  any  thing  ?" 

There  is  a  chapel  in  which  is  daily  performed  one  mass, 
and  on  holy  days  and  Sundays  three.  In  the  chapel  are 
five  little  closets  ;  the  pnsoner  is  placed  in  one  of  these, 
when  the  magistrate  gives  him  leave  to  be  present  at  the 
celebration  of  that  ceremony  ;  'he  is  taken  back  after  the 
elevation  ;  so  that  no  priest  ever  views  the  face  of  a  pri- 
soner ;  and  the  latter  never  sees  more  than  the  back  of  the 
priest.  Mr.  Berrier  had  granted  me  permission  to  hear 
mass  on  Sundays  and  Wednesdays,  and  had  allowed  the 
same  liberty  to  my  companion.  He  had  given  that  leave 
also  to  the  prisoner  who  lodged  above  us.  I  had  observed 
that  this  prisoner  never  made  any  noise ;  he  did  not  so 
much  as  move  his  chair,  nor  even  cough,  &c.  He  went 
to  mass  on  our  days,  descended  the  first,  and  returned  up 
stairs  after  us.  My  mind  being  constantly  intent  on  my 
scheme  of  escaping,  I  told  my  companion  that  I  had  a 
mind  to  take  a  view  of  the  strangers  room  at  our  return 
from  mass,  and  I  desired  him  to  forward  my  wish  by  put- 
ting his  tweezer-case  in  his  handkerchief;  and  when  we 
had  regained  the  second  story,  to  contrive  by  pulling  out 
his  handkerchief,  that  the  tweezer-case  should  fall  down 
the  stairs,  to  the  greatest  distance  possible ;  and  that  he 
should  desire  the  turnkey,  who  usually  attended  us,  to  go 
and  pick  it  up.  This  was  no  sooner  proposed  than  done:. 
Being  foremost,  I  ran  up  without  loss  of  time,  drew  back 
the  bolt,  and  opened  the  door.  I  examined  the  height  of 
the  room,  and  found  it  could  not  be  above  ten  feet.  I  shut 
the  door  again,  and  had  leisure  to  measure  one,  two,  and 
three  steps  of  the  staircase  ;  I  counted  their  number  from 
that  chamber  to  ours  ;  and  discovered  a  difference  of  about 
five  feet.  As  the  separation  was  not  a  stone  arch,  I  readily 
perceived  it  could  not  be  five  feet  thick,  and  consequently 
must  be  double. 

I  then  said  to  my  companion,  "  Never  despair  !     With 


THE     MUSEUM.  151 

a  little  patience  and  courage  we  may  make  our  escape. 
Here  is  my  estimate  (presenting  him  with  a  paper :)  there 
is  a  drum*  between  the  room  on  the  third  story  and  ours." 
Without  looking  at  the  paper,  he  said.  "  suppose  all  the 
drums  of  the  army  were  there,  how  should  they  help  us  to 
escape  ?"  "  We  do  not  want  the  drums  of  the  army,  but 
if,  as  I  think,  there  is  a  hollow  to  conceal  my  ropes  and  the 
other  implements  we  shall  have  occasion  for,  I  will  engage 
that  we  shall  succeed."  "  But  before  we  talk  of  hiding 
our  ropes,  we  must  have  them  ;  and  we  know  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  get  ten  feet."  "  Arid  the  ropes,"  said  I,  "  give 
yourself  no  trouble  about  them,  for  in  my  trunk  there  are 
more  than  a  thousand  feet."  He  looked  at  me  earnestly 
and  said,  "  Faith !  I  believe  you  have  lost  your  sense !  I 
know  the  contents  of  your  portmanteau  ;  I  am  certain  there 
is  not  a  foot  of  rope  in  either ;  and  yet  you  tell  me  that 
they  hold  more  than  a  thousand."  "  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  in 
that  trunk  are  twelve  dozen  of  shirts,  six  dozen  pair  of  silk 
stockings,  twelve  dozen  pair  of  under  stockings,  five  dozen 
drawers,  and  six  dozen  napkins.  Now,  by  unraveling  my 
shirts,  stockings,  napkins,  and  drawers,  I  shall  have  more 
than  enough  to  make  a  thousand  feet  of  rope."  "  True," 
said  he,  "  but  how  shall  we  remove  the  iron  bars  in  our 
chimney?  for  we  have  no  instruments  to  accomplish  so 
great  an  undertaking."  I  answered,  "  the  hand  is  the  in- 
strument of  all  instruments ;  it  is  that  which  makes  every 
one  of  them ;  men  whose  heads  are  capable  of  working, 
are  never  at  a  loss  for  resources.  Look  at  the  iron  hinges 
of  our  folding  table.  I  will  put  each  into  a  handle,  give  it 
an  edge  by  whetting  it  on  the  tiled  floor  of  our  apartment ; 
we  have  a  steel ;  by  breaking  it  I  will  manufacture  a  good 
knife  in  less  than  two  hours  to  make  the  handles ;  and  the 
penknife  will  serve  for  a  thousand  purposes." 

As  soon  as  we  had  supped,  we  pulled  one  hinge  from 

*  A  double  ceiling  lowered  to  produce  symmetry  on  a  principal  story,  or 
to  prevent  the  communication  of  sounds.  Instances  of  this  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Adelphi,  London,  for  circulation  of  air  between  the  coins  and  the 
floors,  to  prevent  the  rotting  of  the  timber.  This  singularity  in  architecture 
has  been  particularly  adopted  by  the  French ;  though  there  are  remarkable 
traces  of  it  in  old  Gothic  buildings,  with  a  view  to  secure  valuables  in  trouble- 
some times. 


152  THE     MUSEUM. 

oui  table ;  with  that  we  took  up  a  tile  from  our  floor,  and 
set  about  digging  so  successfully,  that  in  six  hours  we  per- 
formed it,  and  found  tiiat  there  were  two  floors  three  feet 
distant  from  each  other.  From  this  moment  we  consider- 
ed our  escape  as  a  certainty.  We  replaced  the  tile,  which 
had  no  appearance  of  having  been  removed.  Next  day  I 
broke  our  steel,  and  made  a  penknife  of  it,  and  with  this 
instrument  we  formed  handles  to  the  hinges  of  our  table. 
We  gave  an  edge  to  each  ;  then  we  unraveled  two  of  our 
shirts,  having  ripped  them  to  the  hems,  drawing  out  one 
thread  afier  the  other.  We  braided  these  strings  together, 
made  a  certain  number  of  clews  of  an  equal  length ;  and 
the  clews  being  finished,  we  divided  them  in  two,  which 
formed  two  large  bottoms ;  there  were  fifty  threads  in  each 
bottom,  sixty  feet  long.  We  then  twisted  them,  and  formed 
a  rope  fifty-five  feet  long  ;  and  with  the  wood  they  brought 
us  for  firing  made  twenty  rounds,  which  connected  by  the 
rope,  became  a  ladder  twenty  foot  long.  At  last  we  began 
with  the  most  difficult  undertaking,  the  removal  of  the  iron 
bars  from  the  chimney.  To  accomplish  this,  we  fastened 
our  rope  ladder  with  a  weight  to  the  end  of  it,  and  by 
means  of  the  steps  supported  ourselves,  while  we  displaced 
the  bars.  In  a  few  months  we  loosened  them  all,  but  re- 
stored them  to  their  places,  ready  to  be  removed  at  any 
time  we  wanted  them.  This  was  a  troublesome  piece  of 
work.  We  never  descended  without  bloody  hands ;  and 
our  bodies  were  so  bruised  in  the  chimney,  that  we  could 
not  renew  our  toil  for  an  hour  afterwards. 

This  labor  over  we  wanted  a  wooden  ladder  of  twenty 
feet,  from  the  trench  to  reach  the  parapet  where  the  guards 
are  posted,  and  that  way  to  enter  the  governor's  garden. 
Every  day  they  gave  us  wood  for  firing,  about  twenty 
inches  long.  We  still  wanted  blocks  and  many  other 
things,  and  our  two  hinges  were  not  fit  for  these  purposes, 
much  less  to  saw  billets.  In  a  few  hours,  from  an  iron 
candlestick,  with  the  other  fragment  of  the  steel,  I  made 
an  excellent  saw.  With  the  penknife,  the  hinges,  the 
saw,  we  began  to  shape  and  smooth  our  billets,  to  make 
at  each  end  a  kind  of  joint  or  mortise,  and  tenants  to  fix  in 
one  another,  with  two  holes,  one  to  receive  a  round,  and 
one  peg  to  prevent  their  shaking  ;  and  as  fast  as  we  finish- 


THE     MUSEUM.  153 

ed  a  part  of  our  ladder,  we  concealed  it  between  the  two 
floors. 

With  these  implements  we  made  a  pair  of  compasses,  a 
square,  a  reel,  blocks,  steps,  &c. 

As  the  officers  and  turnkeys  often  entered  our  apartment 
in  the  day  time,  when  we  least  expected  them,  we  were 
obliged  not  only  to  hide  our  tools,  but  the  smallest  chips 
and  rubbish  that  we  made,  the  least  of  which  would  have 
betrayed  us.  We  had  likewise  given  each  of  them  a  pri- 
vate name :  for  instance,  we  called  the  saw  Faunus,  the 
reel  Anubis,  the  hinges  Tubal  Cain,  the  drum  Polyphemus, 
in  allusion  to  the  fabulous  grotto ;  the  wooden  ladder  Ja- 
cob, the  steps  suckers,  a  rope  a  dove,  &c.  When  any 
person  was  coming  in,  he  who  was  next  the  door  said  to 
the  other,  Tubal  Cain,  Faunus,  Anubis,  Dove,  &c.,  and  the 
other  threw  his  handkerchief  over  what  was  to  be  conceal- 
ed, or  removed  it ;  for  we  were  always. on  our  guard. 

Not  having  materials  sufficient  to  form  two  sides  to  our 
wooden  ladder,  it  had  only  one  pole,  twenty  feet  long,  in 
which  were  inserted  twenty  rounds,  fifteen  inches  long, 
that  projected  from  the  pole  six  inches  on  each  side,  and 
every  round  with  its  peg  was  fastened  with  packthread,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  to  slip  in  using  it  by  night.  When 
this  ladder  was  finished,  we  had  it  in  Polyphemus,  that  is, 
in  the  hollow  of  the  floor;  we  then  set  to  work  about  the 
ropes  of  the  great  ladder,  which  was  to  be  180  feet  long. 
We  unraveled  our  shirts,  napkins,  stockings,  drawers,  &c. 
As  fast  as  we  made  a  clew  of  certain  length,  we  hid  it  in 
Polyphemus;  and  when  we  had  completed  a  sufficient 
number,  in  one  night  we  twisted  our  capital  rope. 

All  round  the  Bastile  is  an  entablature,  which  projects 
three  or  four  feet.  We  were  convinced  that  every  step  of 
our  descent  the  ladder  would  vibrate  from  side  to  side,  and 
at  those  intervals,  the  steadiest,  head  might  be  overpowered. 
To  prevent  either  of  us  from  being  crushed  by  a  fall,  we 
made  a  second  rope  360  feet  long,  or  twice  the  measure 
of  the  height  of  the  tower.  This  rope  was  to  pass  through 
a  kind  of  fixed  pulley,  that  there  might  be  no  danger  of  its 
sticking  between  the  sides  and  iron  box  of  the  latter,  and 
thus  either  of  us,  whether  above  or  below  the  tower,  by 
means  of  this  cord,  might  sustain  his  comrade  in  the  air, 


154  THE     MUSEUM. 

and  prevent  his  descending  too  fast.  Besides  these,  we 
made  shorter  cords,  to  fasten  our  r«pe-ladder  and  our 
block  to  a  piece  of  cannon,  and  for  other  foreseen  exi- 
gencies. 

When  these  cords  were  all  ready,  their  measure  was 
four  hundred  feet.  We  had  still  to  make  two  hundred 
steps  for  the  great  ladder  and  the  wooden  one ;  and  to 
prevent  the  steps  of  the  rope-ladder  from  rustling  against 
the  wall  as  we  descended,  we  covered  them  with  the  lin- 
ings of  our  bed-gowns,  under-waistcoats,  &c.  These  pre- 
parations cost  us  eighteen  months'  work,  night  and  day. 

I  have  described  the  requisites  we  needed,  to  get  through 
our  chimney  on  the  platform  of  the  Bastile,  to  descend 
thence  into  the  trench,  to  get  up  the  parapet,  and  enter  the 
governor's  garden,  to  descend  again,  by  means  of  our 
wooden  ladder,  or  another,  into  the  great  trench  by  the 
gate  of  St.  Anthony,  the  spot  that  was  to  bless  us  with  our 
liberty.  We  required,  besides,  a  dark,  stormy  night :  yet 
a  dreadful  evil  might  intervene  ;  it  might  happen  to  rain 
from  five  in  the  evening  till  nine  or  ten,  and  then  the 
weather  might  become  fair.  In  that  case,  the  sentinels 
walking  round  the  Bastile  from  one  post  to  another,  not 
only  all  our  toil  would  be  lost,  but  instead  of  receiving  any 
consolation,  we  should  be  sent  to  the  dungeon,  and  while 
the  Marchioness  continued  in  power,  be  watched  with  ad- 
ditional rigor.  We  were  much  alarmed  with  the  appre- 
hension of  this  danger,  but  by  reflecting  on  it,  I  discovered 
the  means  of  its  removal.  I  informed  my  companion,  that 
since  the  building  of  this  wall,  the  Seine  had  overflowed  at 
least  300  times :  that  its  waters  must  have  dissolved  the 
salts  contained  in  the  mortar,  the  depth  of  half  an  inch 
every  time,  and  that  consequently  it  would  be  easy  for  us 
to  perforate  a  hole  in  it,  by  which  we  might  escape  with 
less  hazard.  That  we  might  obtain  a  gimblet,  by  drawing 
a  screw  out  of  our  bedstead,  to  which  we  would  fix  a  good 
cross  handle ;  and  with  it  might  make  some  holes  in  the 
joining  of  the  stones,  to  stick  in  them  our  iron  bars,  by  which 
we  might  remove  more  than  five  tons  weight  with  the  pur- 
chase of  the  lever,  and  so  might  easily  pierce  the  wall  that 
separates  the  trench  of  the  Bastile  from  that  of  St.  Antho- 
ny's gate.  There  would  be  a  thousand  times  less  risk  in 


THE     MTJSEtTM.  155 

issuing  by  this  method,  than  by  getting  out  on  the  parapet, 
and  passing  under  the  very  noses  of  the  sentinels,  &c. 
M.  d'Alegre  agreed  to  this,  and  said  that  should  we  be 
foiled  in  this  perforation,  it  would  be  still  less  hazardous 
than  to  scale  a  corner  of  the  wall,  as  we  had  heretofore 
intended  by  the  parapet ;  a  resource  that  would  be  left  us 
should  our  other  attempt  be  frustrated  by  insurmountable 
obstacles.  Accordingly  we  made  wrappers  for  our  iron 
bars  ;  we  drew  out  the  bed  screw,  and  made  a  gimblet  of 
it :  in  short,  when  our  apparatus  was  ready,  though  the 
river  had  overflowed,  and  the  water  was  three  or  four  feet 
deep  in  each  trench,  we  resolved  to  depart  the  next  eve- 
ning, the  25th  of  February,  1756. 

Besides  my  trunk,  I  had  a  large  leathern  portmanteau; 
and  not  questioning  that  all  the  clothes  on  our  backs  would 
be  soaked  by  working  in  the  water,  we  filled  this  port- 
manteau with  a  complete  suit,  not  omitting  the  best  of 
every  article  left  us.  Next  day,  as  soon  as  we  had  dined, 
we  fitted  up  our  great  ladder,  with  its  flight  of  steps,  and 
then  hid  it  under  our  beds,  that  it  might  not  be  discovered 
by  the  turnkey,  when  he  brought  our  supper.  We  next 
adjusted  our  wooden  ladder,  then  made  up  the  rest  into 
several  bundles,  being  free  from  the  apprehension  of  any 
visit,  till  the  usual  hour  of  five.  The  two  iron  bars  for 
which  we  had  occasion  were  pulled  down,  and  put  into 
their  wrappers,  both  to  prevent  a  noise,  and  that  we  might 
handle  them  more  conveniently.  We  had  provided  a  bot- 
tle of  usquebaugh,  to  keep  us  warm  and  recruit  our 
strength,  should  we  be  obliged  to  work  in  the  water. 
This  proved  a  very  necessary  precaution ;  for  without  the 
assistance  of  that  liquor,  we  should  never  have  been  able 
to  stand  up  to  the  neck  in  the  wet  for  six  hours. 

The  critical  moment  now  arrived.  Our  supper  was 
scarcely  brought,  when  in  spite  of  a  rheumatic  pain  in  my 
left  arm,  I  set  about  climbing  up  the  chimney,  and  had  a 
hard  struggle  to  reach  the  top.  I  was  almost  smothered 
with  the  soot,  not  being  aware  that  chimney-sweepers  arm 
their  elbows  and  loins  with  defensives,  and  put  a  sack  over 
their  heads,  to  secure  them  from  the  dust.  My  elbows 
and  knees  were  accordingly  flayed  ;  the  blood  streaming 
from  my  elbows  to  my  hands,  and  from  my  knees  down 


Iftfl  THE    MUSEUM. 

to  my  legs.  At  last  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  chimney,  where 
I  placed  myself  astride,  and  thence  unwound  a  ball  of 
packthread,  to  the  end  of  which  rny  companion  had  agreed 
to  fasten  the  strongest  rope  that  held  my  portmanteau  :  by 
this  I  drew  it  up,  and  lowered  it  on  the  platform.  I  re- 
tuned  the  rope,  to  which  my  companion  tied  the  wooden 
ladder.  I  drew  up,  in  the  same  manner,  the  two  iron 
bars,  and  the  rest  of  our  parcels.  When  1  had  these,  1 
again  let  down  my  packthread  to  raise  the  rope  ladder, 
drawing  up  the  superfluous  length,  that  by  the  end  my 
companion  might  mount  the  chimney  with  more  facility 
than  1  had  done ;  and  at  his  signal  I  fastened  it.  He  as- 
cended with  ease  ;  we  finished  drawing  up  the  remainder, 
and  hung  the  whole  in  such  a  manner  across  the  chimney, 
that  we  descended  both  at  once  on  the  platform,  serving 
as  a  counterpoise  to  each  other. 

Two  horses  would  not  have  been  able  to  remove  all  our 
luggage.  We  began  with  rolling  up  our  rope  ladder, 
which  made  a  volume  five  feet  high  and  a  foot  thick,  and 
we  wheeled  this  kind  of  millstone  on  the  tower  of  the  trea- 
sury, which  we  thought  most  favorable  for  our  descent. 
We  fastened  this  ladder  securely  to  a  piece  of  cannon,  and 
then  let  it  gently  down  into  the  trench.  In  the  same  man- 
ner we  fastened  our  block,  passing  through  it  the  rope 
300  feet  long ;  and  when  we  had  moved  aside  all  our  other 
parcels,  I  tied  my  thigh  securely  to  the  rope  of  the  block, 
got  on  the  ladder,  and,  in  proportion  as  I  descended  its 
steps,  my  comrade  let  out  the  rope  of  the  block ;  but  not- 
withstanding this  precaution,  every  time  I  moved,  my  body 
resembled  a  kite  dancing  in  the  air,  so  that,  had  this  hap- 
pened by  daylight,  of  a  thousand  persons  who  might  have 
seen  me  reeling,  not  one  but  what  would  have  given  me 
over  for  lost ;  yet  I  arrived  safe  in  the  trench.  Immedi 
ately  my  companion  lowered  my  portmanteau,  the  iron 
bars,  the  wooden  ladder,  and  all  our  equipage,  which  I 
placed  in  the  dry,  on  a  little  rising  above  the  surface  of  the 
water,  at  the  foot  of  the  tower.  He  next  fastened  the 
rope  of  the  block,  at  the  other  end,  above  his  knee,  and, 
when  he  had  given  me  a  signal,  I  performed  the  same 
manoeuvre  below,  which  he  had  done  for  me  above,  to 
sustain  me  in  the  air,  and  to  prevent  a  fall.  1  took  the 


WONDERFUL    ESCAPE    FROM    THE    BA8TILK. 
&»  ftft  156,  ToL  I. 


THE     MUSEUM.  157 

further  precaution  to  place  the  last  step  under  my  thighs, 
by  sitting  on  it,  to  spare  him  the  disagreeable  vibration 
which  I  had  experienced.  He  got  down  to  me,  though, 
during  the  whole,  the  sentinel  could  not  be  above  thirty 
feet  from  us  walking  on  the  corridor,  as  it  did  not  rain, 
which  prevented  our  mounting  thither,  to  get  into  the  gar- 
den, according  to  our  first  plan.  We  were  therefore 
obliged  to  make  use  of  our  iron  bars;  I  took  one  of  them 
with  the  gimblet,  on  my  shoulder,  and  my  companion  the 
other.  We  proceeded  directly  to  the  wall  that  parts  the 
trench  of  the  Bastile  from  that  of  St.  Anthony's  Gate,  be- 
tween the  garden  and  the  governor's  house.  There  was 
in  this  place  a  small  trench,  six  feet  wide,  and  about  four 
feet  deep,  which  wetted  us  up  to  the  arm-pits. 

At  the  moment  that  I  began  with  my  gimblet  to  bore  a 
hole  between  two  stones,  to  insert  our  levers,  the  major's 
round  passed  us  with  the  great  lantern,  but  twelve  feet,  at 
most,  over  our  heads.  To  conceal  ourselves,  we  stood  up 
to  the  chin  in  water,  and  when  it  was  gone,  I  soon  made 
two  or  three  small  holes  with  my  gimblet,  and  in  a  short 
time  we  got  a  large  stone  out.  We  then  attacked  a  second 
and  a  third  stone.  The  second  watch  passed  us,  and  we 
again  slipped  into  the  water  up  to  our  chin.  We  were 
obliged  to  perform  this  ceremony  regularly  every  half  hour 
that  we  were  disturbed  by  the  watch.  Before  midnight 
we  had  displaced  two  wheelbarrows  of  stones  ;  and,  in  a 
few  hours,  had  made  a  breach  in  the  wall,  which  is  four 
feet  and  a  half  thick.  I  immediately  bade  d'Alegre  get 
out,  and  wait  for  me  on  the  other  side  :  and  should  I  meet 
with  any  misfortune  in  fetching  the  portmanteau,  to  flee  at 
the  least  noise.  Thanks  to  Heaven  !  I  got  it  without  any 
disaster ;  he  drew  it  out,  I  followed,  and  gladly  left  the 
rest  of  our  baggage  behind  us. 

In  the  trench  of  St.  Anthony's  gate  we  thought  our- 
selves out  of  danger.  He  held  one  end  of  my  portmanteau, 
and  I  the  other,  taking  the  wray  to  Bercy.  We  had  scarce- 
ly advanced  fifty  steps,  when  we  fell  into  the  aqueduct  in 
the  middle  of  that  great  trench,  with  at  least  six  feet  of 
water  over  our  heads.  My  companion,  instead  of  gaining 
the  other  side,  for  the  aqueduct  is  not  six  feet  wide,  drop- 
ped the  portmanteau  to  hang  on  me.  Thus  dangerously 

14 


158  THE     MUSEUM. 

entangled,  with  a  jerk  I  made  him  let  go  his  hold,  clinging 
at  the  same  moment  to  the  opposite  side,  and  plunging  my 
arm  in  the  water,  drew  him  towards  me  by  the  hair  of  his 
head,  and  afterwards  my  portmanteau,  which  floated  on 
the  surface.  We  were  not  till  now  out  of  danger.  Here 
ended  the  horrors  of  that  dreadful  night. 

As  the  trench  formed  a  declivity,  thirty  paces  from 
thence  we  were  on  dry  ground.  Then  we  embraced  each 
other,  and  fell  on  our  knees  to  thank  God  for  the  great 
mercy  he  had  bestowed  on  us,  that  neither  of  us  had  been 
dashed  to  pieces  in  the  fall,  and  that  he  had  restored  us  to 
liberty.  Our  rope  ladder  was  so  exact,  as  not  to  be  a  foot 
too  long,  or  too  short ;  every  part  of  it  was  so  well  dis- 
posed, that  not  an  inch  was  out  of  its  place.  All  the 
clothes  on  our  backs  were  thoroughly  soaked,  but  we 
had  provided  for  this  inconvenience  by  those  in  my 
portmanteau,  which  being  well  covered  at  top  with  dirty 
linen,  and  carefully  packed,  were  not  injured  by  a  drop  of 
water. 

Our  hands  were  galled  by  drawing  out  the  stones  to 
form  a  breach ;  and  what  may  be  thought  surprising  is, 
that  we  were  less  cold  up  to  the  neck  in  water,  than  on 
dry  ground,  when  a  universal  tremor  seized  us,  and  we 
almost  lost  the  use  of  our  hands.  I  was  obliged  to  be  my 
friend's  valet-de-chambre,  and  he  in  return  mine.  As  we 
mounted  the  slope  it  struck  four  o'clock.  We  took  the 
first  hackney-coach,  and  went  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Sil- 
houette, chancellor  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  ;  but  as  un- 
luckily .he  was  at  Versailles,  we  flew  for  refuge  to  the 
abbey  of  St.  Germain-dez-prez. 

Such  is  the  narrative  of  this  extraordinary  escape.  The 
unfortunate  author  proceeds  to  relate  the  various  interest- 
ing circumstances  that  followed,  till  he  was  retaken  and 
reconducted  to  the  Bastile.  His  removal  to  the  castle  of 
Vincennes,  his  escape  from  thence,  his  recapture,  and  con- 
finement in  Bicetre,  with  his  subsequent  sufferings,  are 
equally  interesting.  Humanity  must  shudder  at  the  fol- 
lowing paragraph,  in  which  M.  de  la  Tude  mentions  the 
fate  of  his  fellow  sufferer  ! 

"  Poor  d'Alegre,  my  companion  in  adversity,  not  able  to 
stand  the  shock  of  such  rigorous  treatment,  became  raving 


THE    MUSEUM.  159 

mad.  He  was  still  living  in  1777,  when  he  had  been  re- 
moved to  the  hospital  for  lunatics  at  Charenton,  governed 
by  the  friars  of  the  order  of  Charity,  a  habitation  which  in 
all  probability,  they  likewise  intended  for  me  ;  for  they  one 
day  allowed  me  the  barbarous  privilege  of  seeing  my  friend 
plunged  in  those  dreary  cells.  I  found  him  among  the  in- 
curables, and  at  sight  of  him  in  that  horrid  situation,  could 
not  withhold  my  tears.  Surely  this  was  an  entertainment 
granted  purposely  to  rack  me  with  despair  !  I  told  him 
my  name,  and  that  it  was  I  who  had  escaped  with  him 
from  the  Bastile.  But  he  did  not  recollect  me.  He  an- 
swered, '  No  ;  he  was  God.' 

"  Perpetual  imprisonment  has  been  reckoned  a  favor  to 
a  criminal ;  but  from  my  own  experience,  and  what  I  have 
witnessed  of  others,  with  whose  sufferings  I  have  been  too 
familiar,  I  will  venture  to  affirm,  that  it  would  be  a  thou- 
sand times  more  humane  in  a  judge  to  deprive  a  culprit 
of  his  life  by  the  most  cruel  tortures,  than  to  condemn  him 
to  perpetual  imprisonment.  In  the  first  case  his  wretched 
existence  must  terminate  in  less  than  an  hour ;  whereas, 
in  a  lingering  imprisonment,  he  suffers  every  moment  the 
pangs  of  a  thousand  deaths." 

What  exquisite  refinement  in  cruelty  !  But  poor  de  la 
Tude's  own  situation  appears  from  the  following  extract 
from  a  memorial  of  M.  de  Comeyras :  "  It  was  on  occa- 
sion of  the  dauphin's  birth,  when  the  king  had  appointed 
the  commission  to  release  prisoners  not  guilty  of  capital 
offences,  that  the  cardinal  de  Rohan,  who  was  the  presi- 
dent, being  authorized  to  set  open  the  prisons,  found  the 
wretched  la  Tude  confined  ten  feet  under  ground,  clad  in 
tatters,  his  beard  a  foot  and  a  half  long,  no  bed  but  straw, 
nor  provision  except  bread  and  water.  He  had  the  hu- 
manity to  order  him  a  more  tolerable  habitation,  and  to 
his  bounty,  and  that  of  several  persons  of  the  first  rank,  who 
were  informed  by  the  good  cardinal  of  his  condition,  was  la 
Tude  indebted  for  the  alms  that  procured  it  an  alleviation. 

"  An  abandoned  villain,  stained  with  the  blackest  crimes, 
would  have  fully  atoned  for  them  by  thirty  five  years  im- 
prisonment, and  its  attendant  barbarities.  How  truly  piti- 
able then,  is  the  man  whose  only  fault  affected  not  the  king, 
in  his  person,  estate,  or  subjects ;  a  fault  without  a  cri- 


160  THE     MUSEUM. 

minal  motive,  excusable  on  account  of  his  youth,  and  which 
would  have  been  sufficiently  punished  by  six  months  im- 
prisonment." 

It  must  not  be  omitted  here,  that  M.  de  la  Tude  owed 
his  deliverance,  at  last,  to  Madame  le  Cross,  a  lady  in  the 
middling  rank  of  life.  The  narrative  of  her  astonishing 
perseverance  in  her  generous  efforts,  and  of  her  sufferings 
in  consequence,  exhibits  a  picture  of  female  heroism,  and 
of  a  virtue  almost  superhuman,  that  renders  her  name 
worthy  of  being  transmitted  to  posterity,  with  the  St.  Vin- 
cent de  Pauls,  the  Howards,  and  other  illustrious  benefac- 
tors of  mankind. 

The  interference,  however,  of  the  cardinal  de  Rohan, 
procured  only  an  alleviation  of  his  sufferings,  and  it  was  not 
till  the  28th  of  March,  1784,  that  the  wretched  de  la  Tude 
was  discharged  with  a  pension  of  four  hundred  livres  a 
year.  And  thus  he  himself  describes  the  horrors  of  his 
captivity  : 

"  I  have  languished  twelve  thousand  one  hundred  and 
sixty-three  days  in  the  different  prisons  to  which  I  have 
been  successively  removed.  From  this  number  of  days, 
days  of  which  each  appeared  so  long,  stretched  on  straw, 
without  a  covering,  and  devoured  by  odious  reptiles,  re- 
duced to  scanty  allowance  of  bread  and  water  for  subsist- 
ence, I  have  groaned  three  thousand  and  sixty-seven  in  the 
damp  infection,  and  gloom  of  dungeons  ;  and  for  twelve 
hundred  and  eighteen  of  those  days,  or  rather  those  end- 
less nights  of  horror,  my  hands  and  feet  have  been  bruised 
and  torn  by  the  vile  incumbrance  of  fetters. 

"  Such  a  length  of  torments  would  be  thought,  no  doubt, 
a  punishment  too  excessive  for  the  most  guilty  criminal. 
Let  then  my  fault  be  compared  with  the  boundless  ven- 
geance that  has  pursued  it,  and  say,  on  viewing  the  picture 
can  you  refuse  the  tear  of  pity  to  my  calamity  ?" 


REMARKABLE  ESCAPE  AND  SUFFERINGS  OF  CAPTAIN  WILSON 

THE  hero  of  this  narrative  is  Captain  James  Wilson, 
who,  several  years  ago  commanded  the  ship  Duff,  belong- 


THE    MUSEUM.  161 

ing  to  the  missionaries,  who  were  fitted  out  for  the  South 
Sea  Islands.  The  particulars  exhibit  another  instance,  in 
addition  to  the  many  already  upon  record,  of  the  fortitude 
of  man,  and  the  possibility  of  bearing  hardships,  which 
seem  beyond  the  common  powers  of  human  nature. 

Captain  Wilson  was  taken  by  the  French,  as  he  was 
going  with  a  very  valuable  cargo  of  military  stores  to  Sii 
Edward  Hughes,  whose  ammunition  had  been  nearly  ex- 
hausted in  the  well  known  conflict  with  Suffrein.  He  was 
carried  into  Cuddalore,  in  India,  which  had  been  taken  by 
the  French,  and  there  he  found  the  crew  of  the  Hannibal, 
in  the  same  captivity.  He  was  permitted,  with  other  offi- 
cers, to  be  at  large  on  his  parole,  and  hoped  shortly  to  be 
exchanged. 

Hyder  Ali  had  at  that  time  overrun  and  wasted  a  great 
part  of  the  Carnatic ;  and  in  conjunction  with  the  French, 
after  taking  Cuddalore,  hoped  to  expel  the  English  from 
all  that  territory.  He  had  lately  defeated  colonel  Baily's 
detachment,  and  made  them  prisoners.  He  used  every 
effort  to  get  as  many  of  the  English  as  possible  into  his 
power,  either  to  tempt  them  into  his  service,  or  gratify  his 
brutality  by  putting  them  to  death.  He  had  bribed 
Suffrein,  with  three  hundred  thousand  rupees,  to  surrender 
up  to  him  all  his  prisoners  at  Cuddalore ;  and  the  order 
being  communicated  to  the  commander  of  the  fort,  nothing 
could  exceed  the  indignation  and  grief,  which  he  and  his 
officers  testified  at  such  an  infamous  bargain.  However, 
as  he  dared  not  disobey  the  orders  ef  his  superior,  he  in- 
formed the  gentlemen  on  parole  of  the  transaction,  and  the 
necessity  of  delivering  them  up  the  next  day,  to  the  escort 
appointed  to  carry  them  to  Seringapatam. 

Captain  Wilson  no  sooner  received  the  intelligence,  than 
he  determined  that  very  night,  if  possible,  to  attempt  his 
escape  from  a  captivity  which  appeared  to  him  worse  than 
death.  He  had  observed  as  he  walked  the  ramparts,  the 
possibility  of  dropping  down  into  the  river;  and  though  he 
neither  knew  the  height  of  the  wall,  nor  the  width  of  the 
rivers,  which  were  to  be  crossed,  before  he  could  reach  a 
neutral  settlement,  he  determined  to  seize  the  moment  of 
delay,  and  risk  the  consequences,  whatever  danger  or 

difficulty  might  be  in  the  way. 

14* 


162  THB    MUSEUM. 

He  communicated  his  resolution  to  a  brother  officer,  and 
a  Bengalese  boy,  servant,  who  both  resolved  to  accompany 
him  in  his  flight.  It  was  concerted  between  them  to  meet 
on  the  ramparts,  just  before  the  guard  was  set,  as  it  grew 
dark,  and  silently  drop  down  from  the  battlement.  Before 
the  hour  appointed,  his  companion's  heart  failed  him. 
About  seven  o'clock,  he,  with  his  boy,  Toby,  softly  ascend- 
ed the  rampart  unperceived,  and  the  captain  leaping  down, 
uncertain  of  the  depth,  pitched  on  his  feet :  but  the  shock 
of  so  great  a  descent,  about  forty  feet,  made  his  chin  strike 
against  his  knees,  and  tumbled  him  headlong  into  the  river, 
which  ran  at  the  foot  of  the  wall,  and  he  dreaded  lest  the 
noise  of  the  dash  into  the  water  would  discover  him.  He 
recovered  himself,  however,  as  soon  as  possible,  and  re- 
turned to  the  foot  of  the  wall,  where  there  was  a  dry  bank, 
bid  the  boy  drop  down,  and  caught  him  in  his  arms. 

All  that  part  of  the  Tanjore  country  is  low,  and  inter- 
sected with  a  number  of  rivers,  branching  off  from  the  great 
Coleroon :  these  must  all  necessarily  be  crossed.  He  in- 
quired, therefore,  of  the  boy,  if  he  could  swim ;  but  found 
he  could  not.  This  was  very  embarrassing,  but  he  resolv- 
ed not  to  leave  him  behind,  and  therefore  took  him  on  his 
back,  being  an  excellent  swimmer  and  carried  him  over. 
They  pushed  toward  Porto  Nuovo,  about  four  leagues  and 
a  half  from  Cuddalore.  They  had  passed  three  arms  of  the 
river,  and  advanced  at  as  great  a  pace  as  they  possibly 
could,  to  make  use  of  the  night,  since  their  hope  of  safety 
depended  chiefly  on  the  distance  they  could  reach  before 
the  morning  light.  Not  far  from  Porto  Nuovo,  a  seapoy 
sentinel  challenged,  "  Who  goes  there  ?"  on  which  they 
shrunk  back  and  concealed  themselves,  turning  down  to 
the  river  side.  The  river  in  that  place  \vas  very  wide,  and 
being  near  the  sea,  the  tide  ran  in  with  great  rapidity.  He 
took,  however,  the  boy  on  his  back,  as  he  had  done  before, 
and  bid  him  be  sure  only  to  hold  by  his  hands,  and  cast  his 
legs  behind  him :  but  when  they  came  into  the  breakers, 
the  boy  was  frightened,  and  clung  round  the  captain  with 
his  legs  so  fast,  as  almost  to  sink  him.  With  difficulty  he 
struggled  with  the  waves,  and  turning  back  to  the  shore, 
found  they  must  inevitably  perish  together,  if  he  thus  at- 
tempted to  proceed.  Therefore,  setting  the  boy  safe  on 


THE    MUSEUM.  103 

land,  he  bid  him  go  back  to  Dr.  Mein,  who  would  take 
care  of  him  ;  but  the  poor  lad  has  never  since  been  heard 
of,  though  the  most  diligent  inquiries  were  made  after  him. 
As  delay  was  death  to  him,  he  plunged  again  into  the  stream, 
and  buffeting  the  waves  pushed  for  the  opposite  shore ; 
but  he  found  the  tide  running  upward  so  strong,  that  in 
spite  of  all  his  efforts  he  was  carried  along  with  the  current, 
and  constrained,  at  a  considerable  distance,  to  return  to 
the  same  side  of  the  river.  Providentially,  at  the  place 
where  he  landed,  he  discovered  by  the  moonlight,  dry  on 
the  beach,  a  canoe,  which  he  immediately  seized,  and  was 
drawing  down  to  the  river,  when  two  black  men  rushed 
upon  him,  and  demanded  whither  he  was  going  with  that 
boat.  He  seized  the  outrigger  of  the  canoe  as  his  only 
weapon  of  defence  against  the  paddles  which  they  had  se- 
cured, and  told  them  he  had  lost  his  way,  had  urgent  busi- 
ness to  Tranquebar,  and  thither  he  must  and  would  go ; 
and  launching  with  all  his  remaining  strength  the  canoe 
into  the  river,  he  entreated  them  to  convey  him  to  the  other 
side.  The  good-natured  Hindoos  laid  down  their  paddles 
on  the  thafts,  and  while  he  stood  on  the  stern,  rowed  him 
to  the  opposite  shore.  He  returned  them  many  thanks, 
having  nothing  else  to  give  them,  and  leaping  on  the  beach, 
immediately  pushed  forward  with  all  his  might.  He  found 
he  had  as  great  a  distance  to  pass  to  the  Coleroon,  as  he 
had  already  travelled,  and  therefore  continued  his  course 
with  full  speed,  the  moon  shining  bright ;  and  before  break 
of  day  reached  the  largest  arm  of  the  river,  of  which  those 
he  had  crossed  were  branches.  Exhausted  with  the 
fatigue  he  had  undergone,  and  dismayed  with  the  width 
of  this  mighty  stream,  he  stood  for  a  moment  hesitating  on 
the  brink  :  but  the  approach  of  morning,  and  the  danger 
behind  him  being  so  urgent,  he  stretched  out  his  arms  to 
the  Hood,  and  pressed  for  the  shore.  How  long  he  was 
in  crossing,  he  could  not  ascertain:  he  thought  afterwards 
that  he  must  have  slept  by  the  way,  from  some  confused 
remembrance,  as  of  a  person  awaking  from  a  state  of  in- 
sensibility, and  which  he  supposes,  had  lasted  half  an  hour 
at  least.  However,  with  the  light  of  the  morning  he  had 
reached  the  land,  and  flattered  himself  that  all  his  dangers 
were  passed,  and  his  liberty  secure ;  when,  after  passing 


164  THE    MUSEUM. 

in  a  jungle  which  led  to  the  sea-side,  he  ascended  a  sand- 
bank to  look  around  him.  There  to  his  terror  and  surprise, 
he  perceived  a  party  of  Hyder's  cavalry  scouring  the  coast ; 
and  being  discovered  by  them,  they  galloped  up  to  him. 
In  a  moment  they  seized,  and  stripped  him  naked,  unable 
to  fly  or  resist ;  and  tying  his  hands  behind  his  back,  fas- 
tened a  rope  to  them,  and  thus  drove  him  before  them  to 
the  head-quarters,  several  miles  distant,  under  a  burning 
sun,  and  covered  with  blisters.  He  supposed  he  must  have 
gone  that  night  and  day,  more  than  forty  miles,  besides  all 
the  rivers  he  had  crossed.  But  to  what  efforts  will  not  the 
hope  of  life  and  liberty  prompt  ?  What  sufferings  and  dan- 
gers will  not  men  brave  to  secure  them  ?  Yet  these  were 
but  the  beginning  of  his  dangers  and  sorrows. 

The  officer  at  the  head-quarters  was  a  Mahometan,  one 
of  Hyder's  chieftains.  He  interrogated  the  poor  prisoner 
sharply  who  he  was,  whence  he  came,  and  whither  going  ? 
Mr.  Wilson  gave  him  an  ingenuous  account  of  his  escape 
from  Cuddalore,  and  the  reasons  for  it,  with  all  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  his  flight.  The  moorrnan,  with 
wrath,  looked  at  him,  and  said,  jute  bat,  "  that  is  a  lie,"  as 
no  man  yet  ever  passed  the  Coleroon  by  swimming,  for 
if  he  had  but  dipped  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  it,  the  alligators 
would  have  seized  him.  The  captain  assured  him  that 
it  was  so,  and  gave  him  such  indubitable  evidence  of 
the  fact,  that  he  could  no  longer  doubt  the  relation ;  when 
lifting  up  both  his  hands,  he  cried  out,  oude  ka  Adami, 
"  this  is  God's  man." 

He  was  immediately  marched  back,  naked,  and  blistered 
all  over,  to  his  former  prison.  In  aggravated  punishment 
for  his  flight,  Hyder  refused  him  permission  to  join  his  fel- 
low-officers, his  former  companions,  and  thrust  him  into  a 
dungeon  among  the  meanest  captives.  Chained  to  a  com- 
mon soldier,  he  was  next  day  led  out,  almost  famished, 
and  nearly  naked,  to  march  on  foot  to  Seringapatam,  in  a 
burning  climate,  and  about  five  hundred  miles  distant. 
The  officers  beheld  his  forlorn  condition  with  great  con- 
cern, unable  to  procure  him  any  redress ;  but  they  endea- 
vored to  alleviate  his  misery,  by  supplying  him  with  imme- 
diate necessaries.  One  gave  him  a  shirt,  another  a  waist- 
coat, another  stockings  and  shoes,  so  that  he  was  onco 


THE    MUSETTM.  165 

more  covered  and  equipped  for  his  toilsome  journey.  But 
the  brutes,  his  conductors,  had  no  sooner  marched  him  off 
to  the  first  halting  place,  than  they  again  stripped  him  to 
the  skin,  and  left  him  only  a  sorry  rag  to  wrap  his  middle. 

1 1  this  wretched  state,  chained  to  another  fellow-sufferer, 
under  a  vertical  sun,  with  a  scanty  provision  of  rice  only, 
he  had  to  travel  naked  and  barefoot  five  hundred  miles, 
insulted  by  the  brutes,  who  goaded  him  on  all  the  day, 
and  at  night  was  thrust  into  a  damp,  unwholesome  prison, 
crowded  with  other  miserable  objects. 

On  the  way  they  were  brought  into  Hyder's  presence, 
and  strongly  urged  to  enlist  in  his  service,  thus  to  obtain 
thei'r  liberty  ;  to  induce  them  to  which  these  horrible  se- 
verities were  inflicted  on  them,  and  to  escape  these  at  any 
rate,  some  of  the  poor  creatures  consented.  But  the  cap- 
tain rejected  these  offers  with  disdain,  and  resolved  to 
prefer  death,  with  all  its  horrors,  to  desertion  arid  Ma- 
hometanism. 

In  consequence  of  the  dreadfulness  of  this  march,  ex- 
posed by  day  to  the  heat,  and  cooped  up  in  a  damp  prison 
by  night,  without  clothes,  and  almost  without  food,  cover- 
ed with  sores,  and  the  irons  entering  into  his  flesh,  he  was 
in  addition  to  all  the  rest  of  his  sufferings,  attacked  with  the 
flux ;  and  how  he  arrived  at  Seringapatam  alive,  so  weak- 
ened with  disease,  and  fatigue,  is  wonderful.  Yet  greater 
miseries  awaited  him  there.  Naked,  diseased,  and  half 
starved,  he  was  thrust  into  a  noisome  prison,  destitute  of 
food  and  medicine,  with  one  hundred  and  fifty-three  fel- 
low sufferers,  chiefly  Highlanders  of  colonel  Macleod's 
regiment,  men  of  remarkable  size  and  vigor.  The  very 
irons  which  colonel  Baily  had  worn  were  put  on  him, 
weighing  thirty-two  pounds;  and  this  peculiar  rigor,  he 
was  informed,  was  the  punishment  for  his  daring  to  at- 
tempt an  escape,  as  well  as  for  his  resolute  rejection  of 
all  the  tempting  offers  made  him.  The  other  officers  were 
at  large,  and  among  them  was  General  Baird,  so  lately  the 
avenger  of  their  wrongs,  when  he  stormed  this  very  city. 
Poor  Wilson  was  imprisoned  with  the  common  soldiers, 
and  chained  to  one  of  them  night  and  day. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  express  the  scenes  of  unvaried 
miseries  that  for  two-and-twenty  months,  he  suffered  in 


166  THE    MUSEUM. 

this  horrible  place.  The  prison  was  a  square,  around  the 
walls  of  which  was  a  kind  of  barrack  for  the  guard.  In 
the  middle  was  a  covered  place  open  on  all  sides,  ex- 
posed to  the  wind  and  rain.  There,  without  any  bed 
but  the  earth,  or  covering  but  the  rags  wrapped  around 
him,  he  was  chained  to  a  fellow  sufferer,  and  often  so  cold, 
that  they  have  dug  a  hole  in  the  earth,  and  buried  them- 
selves in  it,  as  some  defence  from  the  chilling  blasts  of  the 
night.  Their  whole  allowance  was  only  a  pound  of  rice 
a  day  per  man,  and  one  rupee  for  forty  days,  or  one  pice 
a  day,  less  than  a  penny,  to  provide  salt  and  firing  to  cook 
the  rice.  It  will  hardly  be  believed,  that  it  was  among 
their  eager  employments  to  collect  the  white  ants,  which 
pestered  them  in  the  prison,  and  fry  them  to  procure  a 
spoonful  or  two  of  their  buttery  substance.  A  state  of 
raging  hunger  was  never  appeased  by  an  allowance 
scarcely  able  to  maintain  life ;  and  the  rice  was  so  full  of 
stones,  that  captain  Wilson  could  not  chew,  but  swallow 
it ;  and  often,  he  said,  he  was  afraid  to  trust  his  own  fin- 
gers in  his  mouth,  lest  he  should  be  tempted  to  bite  them. 

The  noble  and  athletic  highlanders  were  among  the  first 
victims.  Flux  and  dropsy  daily  diminished  their  numbers. 
Often  the  dead  corpse  was  unchained  from  his  arm  in  the 
morning,  that  another  living  sufferer  might  take  his  place, 
and  fall  by  the  same  disease.  How  his  constitution  could 
endure  such  suffering  is  astonishing.  Yet  he  had  recovered 
from  the  flux,  which  he  carried  into  the  prison,  and  for  a 
year  maintained  a  state  of  health  beyond  his  fellows  ;  but 
worn  down  with  misery,  cold,  hunger,  and  nakedness,  he 
was  attacked  with  the  usual  symptoms  which  had  carried 
off  so  many  others.  His  body  enormously  distended,  his 
thighs  as  big  as  his  waist  before,  and  his  face  enormously 
bloated,  death  seemed  to  have  seized  him  for  his  prey. 
How  he  survived  such  accumulated  misery,  exhausted 
with  famine  and  disease,  and  the  unwholesome  vapors  of  a 
prison  thickening  around  him,  and  the  iron  entering  into 
his  flesh,  is  next  to  a  miracle. 

Reduced  now  to  the  extremity  of  weakness,  his  chains 
too  strait  to  be  endured,  and  threatening  mortification,  he- 
seemed  to  touch  the  moment  of  his  dissolution,  and  was  re- 
leased from  them  to  lie  down  and  die.  The  soldier  to 


THE     MUSEUM.  167 

whom  he  had  been  last  chained  had  served  him  with  great 
affection,  while  others  who  had  been  linked  together,  often 
quarreled,  and  rendered  mad  by  their  sufferings,  aggra- 
vated each  other's  miseries.  Seeing  him  thus,  to  all  ap- 
pearance near  his  end,  and  thinking  it  might  alleviate  his 
pain,  Sam  entreated  he  might  spend  for  oil,  the  daily  pice, 
about  three  farthings,  paid  them,  to  anoint  his  legs,  but  the 
captain  objected,  that  he  should  then  have  nothing  to  buy 
firing  and  salt  to  cook  the  next  day's  provision.  Sam 
shook  his  head,  and  said,  master,  before  that  I  fear  you  will 
be  dead,  and  never  want  it.  But  who  can  tell  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth  ?  He  had  exchanged  his  allowance  of 
rice  that  day  for  a  small  species  of  gram  called  ratche  pier, 
which  he  eagerly  devoured,  and  being  very  thirsty,  he  drank 
the  liquid  in  which  they  were  boiled,  and  this  produced 
such  an  amazing  evacuation,  that  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours,  his  legs  and  thighs  and  body,  from  being  bloated 
ready  to  burst,  were  reduced  to  a  skeleton,  and  though 
greatly  weakened,  he  was  completely  relieved  :  and  after- 
wards recommended  the  trial  with  success  to  many  of  his 
fellow-prisoners.  His  irons  were  now  replaced,  though 
less  heavy ;  and  being  mere  skin  and  bones,  they  would 
slip  over  his  knees  and  leave  his  legs  at  liberty. 

The  ravages  of  death  had  now  thinned  their  rank,  and 
few  remained  the  living  monuments  of  Hyder  Ali's  cruelty 
and  malignity ;  nor  would  those  probably  have  conflicted 
with  their  miseries  many  more  months  or  days  ;  but  the 
victories  of  Sir  Eyre  Coote,  happily  humbled  this  sovereign, 
and  compelled  him  relunctantly  to  submit,  as  one  of  the 
conditions  of  peace,  to  the  release  of  all  the  British  cap- 
tives. With  these  glad  tidings,  after  twenty-two  months 
spent  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  Mr.  Law,  son  of  the 
bishop  of  Carlisle,  arrived  at  Seringapatam,  and  to  him 
the  prison  doors  flew  open ;  but,  what  a  scene  presented 
itself !  Emaciated,  naked,  covered  with  ulcers,  more  than 
half  dead,  only  thirty-two  remained  out  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty-three  brave  men,  to  tell  the  dismal  tale  of  the  suf- 
ferings of  their  prison  house. 

Their  humane  and  compassionate  deliverer  immediately 
provided  them  with  clothes,  dressing  for  their  wounds,  and 
food  for  their  hunger ;  but  now  the  mercies  threatened  to 


108  THE    MUSEUM. 

be  more  fatal  to  them  than  even  their  miseries.  The  raven- 
ousness  of  their  appetite  could  not  be  restrained ;  and 
though  cautioned  and  warned  against  excess,  they  devoured 
the  meat  provided  with  such  keen  avidity,  that  their  sto- 
machs, long  unaccustomed  to  animal  food,  were  incapable 
of  digestion.  Captain  Wilson  was  of  the  number,  who 
could  not  bridle  his  cravings ;  the  sad  effects  immediately 
followed.  He  was  siezed  that  night  with  a  violent  fever, 
became  delirious,  and  for  a  fortnight  his  life  was  despaired 
of.  In  his  prison,  under  sufferings  more  than  human  na- 
ture seemed  capable  of  enduring,  he  had  struggled  through, 
and  for  the  most  part  enjoyed  a  state  of  health  and 
strength,  but  now  in  the  moment  of  liberty,  joy  and  abun- 
dance, he  received  a  stroke  more  severe  than  he  had  be- 
fore undergone.  He  was  a  more  wretched  being,  sur- 
rounded by  kind  friends,  and  every  humane  attention,  than 
he  had  been,  destitute,  famished,  covered  with  sores,  and 
lying  naked  on  the  floor  of  a  dungeon. 

Being  restored,  however,  and  capable  of  accompanying 
his  countrymen,  he  descended  the  Gauts,  and  proceeded  on 
to  Madras,  Lord  Macartney  had  forwarded  a  supply  of 
clothes  to  meet  them,  but  there  not  being  a  sufficiency  for 
all,  some  had  one  thing  and  some  another ;  to  Mr.  Wilson's 
share,  a  very  large  military  hat  fell,  which,  with  a  banyan 
and  pantaloons,  with  many  a  breach,  made  his  meagre  figure 
very  much  resemble  a  maniac.  Impatient  to  visit  his 
friends,  he  walked  on  from  the  last  halting  place,  and  the 
sentries  hardly  would  let  him  pass.  He  hastened  to  a 
friend  whose  name  was  Ellis,  and  knocking  at  the  door, 
inquired  of  the  servants  for  their  master  and  mistress. 
The  footman  stared  at  him,  said  they  were  not  at  home, 
and  were  shutting  the  door  against  him,  when  he  pressed 
in,  rushed  by  them  and  threw  himself  down  on  a  sofa. 
The  servants  were  Mahometans,  who  hold  the  insane  in 
much  reverence,  and  such  they  supposed  him  ;  without  any 
violence,  therefore,  used  to  remove  him,  captain  Wilson 
was  permitted  quietly  to  repose  himself:  and  being  tired, 
he  fell  into  the  most  profound  sleep,  in  which  state  his 
friends  found  him,  and  hardly  recognized  him,  he  was  so 
altered.  They  left  him  thus  sound  asleep  till  the  evening, 
when  the  lustres  were  lighted,  and  several  friends  assein- 


THE     MUSEUM.  169 

bled,  curious  to  hear  the  story  of  his  miserable  captivity. 
When  he  awoke  and  saw  the  glare  of  light,  and  the  per- 
sons around  him,  he  could  scarcely  recover  his  recollec- 
tion, and  for  a  moment  seemed  as  if  he  had  dropped  into 
some  enchanted  abode.  The  welcome  and  kind  treatment 
of  his  friends,  who  supplied  all  his  wants,  soon  restored  him 
to  his  former  life  and  spirits ;  and  he  began  to  think  of  new 
service,  as  he  had  as  yet  obtained  but  a  scanty  provision, 
which  his  long  captivity  had  not  much  increased,  though 
he  received  the  arrears  of  his  pay. 


PROVIDENTIAL    ESCAPE    OF   A    DUTCHMAN. 

ON  a  high,  steep  promontory,  called  Ladder  Hill,  upon 
the  island  of  St.  Helena,  the  height  of  which  cannot  be 
much  less  than  eight  hundred  feet,  an  extraordinary  acci- 
dent happened  to  a  Dutch  sailor,  in  1759.  This  man, 
coming  out  of  the  country  after  dark,  and  being  in  liquor, 
mistook  the  path  then  in  use,  and  turned  to  the  left  instead 
of  the  right ;  he  continued  his  journey  with  great  difficulty, 
till  finding  the  descent  no  longer  practicable,  he  took  up 
his  residence  for  the  night  in  a  chink  of  the  rock  and  fell 
asleep.  Late  in  the  morning  he  waked,  and  what  was  his 
horror  and  astonishment  to  find  himself  on  the  brink  of  a 
precipice  one  hundred  fathoms  deep  !  He  attempted  to 
return  back,  but  found  it  impossible  to  climb  the  crags  he 
had  descended. 

After  having  passed  several  hours  in  this  dreadful  situa- 
tion, he  discovered  some  boys  on  the  beach  at  the  foot  of 
the  precipice,  bathing  in  the  sea ;  hope  of  relief  made  him 
exert  his  voice  to  the  utmost,  but  he  had  the  mortification 
to  find  that  the  distance  prevented  his  being  heard. 

He  then  threw  one  of  his  shoes  towards  them,  but  it 
unfortunately  fell  without  being  perceived.  He  threw  the 
other  and  was  more  fortunate  ;  for  it  fell  at  the  feet  of  one 
of  the  boys  who  was  just  coming  out  of  the  water :  the 
youth  looked  up,  and  with  great  surprise,  saw  the  poor 
Dutchman  waving  his  hat,  and  making  other  signs  of 
distress. 

15 


170  THE    MUSEUM. 

They  hastened  to  the  town,  and  telling  what  they  had 
seen,  great  numbers  of  people  ran  to  the  heights  over  head, 
from  whence  they  could  see  the  man,  but  were  neverthe- 
less at  a  loss  how  to  save  him.  At  last  a  coil  of  strong 
rope  was  procured,  and  one  end  being  fastened  above,  the 
other  was  reeved  down  over  the  place  where  he  stood. 
The  sailor  instantly  laid  hold  of  it,  and  with  an  agility  pe- 
culiar to  people  of  his  profession,  in  a  little  time  gained  the 
summit. 

As  soon  as  he  found  himself  safe,  he  produced  an  in- 
stance of  provident  carefulness,  truly  Dutch,  by  pulling  out 
of  his  bosom  a  China  punch  bowl,  which,  in  all  his  distress, 
he  had  taken  care  to  preserve  unbroken,  though  the  latter 
must  have  alarmed  the  children  at  once  by  its  noise,  and 
the  shoes  must  have  left  him  to  starve,  if  they  had  not 
fallen  in  sight. 


CZERNY-GEORGES. 

GEORGE  PETROWITCH,  better  known  by  the  name  of 
Czerny-Georges,  that  is  to  say,  Black  George,  was  born 
of  a  noble  Servian  family,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Belgrade. 
Before  he  had  attained  the  age  of  manhood,  he  was  one 
day  met  by  a  Turk,  who,  with  an  imperious  air,  ordered 
him  to  stand  out  of  his  way,  at  the  same  time  declaring 
that  he  would  blow  out  his  brains.  Czerny-Georges,  how- 
ever, prevented  him  from  putting  his  threat  into  execution, 
and  by  the  discharge  of  a  pistol,  immediately  laid  him  dead 
on  the  ground.  To  avoid  the  dangerous  consequences  of 
this  affair,  he  took  refuge  in  Transylvania,  and  entered  the 
military  service  of  Austria,  in  wrhich  he  quickly  obtained 
the  rank  of  non-commissioned  officer.  His  captain  having 
ordered  him  to  be  punished,  Czerny-Georges  challenged 
and  killed  him.  He  then  returned  to  Servia,  where,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-five,  he  became  the  chief  of  one  of  those 
bands  of  malcontents  which  infest  every  part  of  the 
Turkish  dominions,  who  pride  themselves  upon  the  title  of 
kleptai,  or  brigand,  and  whom  the  non-Mussulman  popula- 
tion consider  as  their  avengers  and  liberators.  Czerny 


THE    MTJSETTM.  171 

Georges  encamped  in  the  thick  forest,  waged  war  against 
the  Turks  with  unheard  of  cruelty:  he  spared  neither  age 
nor  sex,  and  extended  his  ravages  throughout  the  whole 
province  of  Servia.  The  Turks  having,  by  way  of  retalia- 
tion, condemned  twenty-six  of  the  principal  Servians  to 
death,  the  father  of  Czerny-Georges  determined  to  aban- 
don the  banners  of  his  son,  whom  he  had  previously  joined 
The  old  man  even  threatened  to  deliver  up  the  whole 
troop  to  the  power  of  the  Turks,  unless  they  immediately 
consented  to  relinquish  the  useless  contest.  Czerny  con- 
jured him  to  alter  his  resolution  ;  but  the  old  man  persisted, 
and  set  out  for  Belgrade.  His  son  followed  him.  Hav- 
ing arrived  at  the  Servian  outposts,  he  threw  himself  on 
his  knees,  and  again  entreated  that  his  father  would  not 
betray  his  country  ;  but  finding  him  inflexible,  he  drew 
out  a  pistol,  fired  it,  and  thus  became  the  murderer  of  his 
parent. 

The  Servians  still  continued  to  augment  the  band  of 
Czerney-Georges.  Emboldened  by  the  numerous  advan- 
tages he  had  obtained,  this  chief  at  length  sallied  from  the 
forests,  besieged  Belgrade,  and  on  the  1st  of  December, 
1806,  forced  that  important  fortress  to  surrender.  Being 
proclaimed  generalissimo  of  his  nation,  he  governed  it  with 
unlimited  power.  The  principal  nobles  and  ecclesiastics, 
under  the  presidency  of  the  archbishop,  formed  a  kind  of 
senate  or  synod,\vhich  assembled  at  Semendriah,  and  which 
claimed  the  right  of  exercising  the  sovereignty.  But  Czer- 
ny-Georges annulled  the  acts  of  the  assembly,  and  declared 
by  a  decree,  that  "  during  his  life  no  one  should  rise  above 
him  ;  that  he  was  sufficient  in  himself,  and  stood  in  no  need 
of  advisers."  In  1807.  he  ordered  one  of  his  brothers  to 
be  hanged  for  some  trifling  want  of  respect  towards  him. 

The  conquest  of  Servia  was  accompanied  by  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  Turks :  no  mercy  was  shown  even  to  those 
who  voluntarily  surrendered  themselves.  Czerny-Georges 
being  attacked  by  an  army  of  50,000  Mussulmen,  valiantly 
defended  the  banks  of  the  Morave  ;  and  had  he  possessed 
the  means  of  obtaining  foreign  officers  to  discipline  the  in- 
trepid Servians,  he  might  perhaps  have  re-established  the 
kingdom  of  Servia,  which  under  Stephen  III.  resisted  the 
Monguls,  and  under  Stephen  Duscian  included  Bulgaria 


172  THE    MUSEUM. 

Macedonia,  and  Bosnia.     In  1387,  Servia,  though  tribu 
tary  to  the  Turks,  still  retained  its  national  princes,  who 
assumed  the  title  of  despots;  in  1463,  they  were  succeed- 
ed by  a  Turkish  Pasha.     Their  house  became  extinct  in 
1560. 

Czerny-Georges  was  tall  and  well  made  ;  but  his  ap- 
pearance was  altogether  savage  and  displeasing,  owing  to 
the  disproportionate  length  of  his  countenance,  his  small 
and  sunken  eyes,  bald  forehead,  and  his  singular  method 
of  wearing  his  hair,  gathered  together  in  one  enormous 
tress,  which  hung  down  upon  his  shoulders.  His  violent 
spirit  was  marked  by  an  exterior  of  coldness  and  apathy ; 
he  sometimes  passed  whole  hours  without  uttering  a  single 
syllable,  and  he  neither  knew  how  to  read  nor  write.  He 
never  resorted  to  the  diversion  of  hunting  above  once  du- 
ring the  year.  He  was  then  accompanied  by  from  three 
to  four  hundred  pandours,  who  assisted  him  in  waging  a 
deadly  war  against  the  wolves,  foxes,  deer,  and  wild  goats, 
which  inhabit  the  forests  of  fertile  but  uncultivated  Servia. 
The  entire  produce  of  his  hunting  was  publicly  sold  for  his 
own  profit.  He  also  sought  to  augment  his  patrimony  by 
confiscations. 

At  the  treaty  of  peace  in  1812,  Russia  provided  for  the 
interests  of  Servia.  That  province  was  acknowledged  to 
be  a  vassal,  and  tributary  to  the  Porte.  Czerny-Georges 
retired  to  Russia,  and  lived  at  Kissonoff  in  Bessarabia. 
This  was  soon  followed  by  his  return  to  Servia  in  disguise  ; 
his  discovery  and  execution  were  the  immediate  conse- 
quences. 


THE    OUTLAW    OP    NORFOLK    ISLAND. 

ABOUT  thirty  years  ago,  there  occurred  on  Norfolk  isl- 
and (a  part  of  New  South  Wales  colony,)  a  remarkable 
case  of  a  human  being  living,  during  several  years,  in  a 
state  of  complete  seclusion  from  man,  in  a  state  of  outlaw- 
ry, and  in  perfect  wildness,  both  as  respects  habitation, 
food  and  raiment.  The  relation  cannot  be  read  without 


THE    MUSEUM.  173 

interest,  or  without  exciting  a  feeling  of  compassion  towards 
the  unfortunate  outcast. 

One  of  the  prisoners  belonging  to  the  out-gangs,  being 
sent  into  camp  on  a  Saturday,  to  draw  the  weekly  allow- 
ance of  provision  for  his  mess,  fell  unfortunately  into  the 
company  of  a  party  of  convicts,  who  were  playing  cards 
for  their  allowance,  a  thing  very  frequent  among  them. 
With  as  little  resolution  as  his  superior  in  similar  situations, 
after  being  awhile  a  looker-on,  he  at  length  suffered  himself 
to  be  persuaded  to  take  a  hand  ;  and,  in  the  event,  lost  not 
only  his  own  portion,  but  that  of  the  whole  mess.  Being 
a  man  of  a  timid  nature,  his  misfortune  overcame  his  rea- 
son, and  conceiving  his  situation  among  his  messmates  in- 
supportable, he  formed  and  executed  the  extravagant  reso- 
lution of  absconding  into  the  glens.  Every  possible  inquiry 
was  now  made  after  him  :  it  was  known  that  he  had  drawn 
the  allowance  of  his  mess,  and  almost  in  the  same  moment 
discovered  that  he  had  lost  it  at  play ;  search  upon  search, 
however,  was  made  to  no  purpose.  However,  as  it  was 
impossible  that  he  could  subsist  without  occasional  mau- 
rauding,  it  was  believed  that  he  must  shortly  be  taken  in 
his  predatory  excursions.  These  expectations,  however, 
were  in  vain ;  for  the  fellow  managed  his  business  with 
such  dexterity,  keeping  closely  within  his  retreat  during 
the  day,  and  marauding  for  his  subsistence  only  by  night, 
that,  in  despite  of  the  narrow  compass  of  the  island,  he 
eluded  all  search.  His  nocturnal  depredations  were  solely 
confined  to  the  supply  of  his  necessities  ;  Indian  corn,  po- 
tatoes, pumpkins  and  melons.  He  seldom  visited  the  same 
place  a  second  time  ;  but  shifting  from  place  to  place,  al- 
ways contrived  to  make  his  escape  almost  before  the  theft 
was  discovered,  or  the  depredator  suspected.  In  vain  was 
a  reward  offered  for  his  apprehension,  and  year  after  year 
every  possible  search  instituted ;  at  times  it  was  consid- 
ered that  he  was  dead,  till  the  revival  of  the  old  trade 
proved  that  the  dexterous  and  invisible  thief  still  existed. 

In  the  pursuit  of  him,  his  pursuers  have  often  been  so 
near  him,  that  he  has  not  unfrequently  heard  their  wishes 
that  they  might  be  so  fortunate  as  to  fall  in  with  him.  The 
reward  being  promised  in  spirits,  a  temptation  to  which 
many  would  have  sacrificed  their  brother,  excited  almost 

15* 


174  THE    MUSEUM; 

the  whole  island  to  join  in  the  pursuit ;  and  even  those 
whose  respectability  set  them  above  any  pecuniary  com- 
pensation, were  animated  with  the  desire  of  hunting  in  so 
extraordinary  a  chase.  These  circumstances  concurred 
to  aggravate  the  terror  of  the  unhappy  fugitive,  as,  from  his 
repeated  depredations,  he  indulged  no  hope  of  pardon. 

Nothing  of  this  kind,  however,  was  intended  ;  it  was 
humanely  thought  that  he  had  already  sustained  sufficient 
punishment  for  his  original  crime,  and  that  his  subsequent 
depredations,  being  solely  confined  to  necessary  food,  were 
venial,  and  rendered  him  a  subject  rather  of  pity  than  of 
criminal  infliction.  Of  these  resolutions,  however,  he 
knew  nothing,  and  therefore  his  terror  continued. 

Chance,  however,  at  length  accomplished  what  had  baf- 
fled every  design.  One  morning,  about  break  of  day,  a 
man  going  to  his  labor  observed  a  fellow  hastily  crossing 
the  road  ;  he  was  instantly  struck  with  the  idea  that  this 
must  be  the  man,  the  object  of  such  general  pursuit.  Ani- 
mated with  this  belief,  he  exerted  his  utmost  efforts  to  seize 
him,  and  after  a  vigorous  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  poor 
fugitive,  finally  succeeded  in  his  design.  It  was  to  no  pur- 
pose to  assure  the  affrighted  wretch  that  his  life  was  safe, 
and  that  his  apprehension  was  only  sought  to  relieve  him 
from  a  life  more  suited  to  a  beast  than  a  human  creature. 

The  news  of  this  apprehension  flew  through  the  island, 
and  every  one  was  more  curious  than  another  to  gain  a 
sight  of  this  phenomenon,  who  for  upwards  of  five  years 
had  so  effectually  secluded  himself  from  all  human  society. 
Upon  being  brought  into  the  camp,  and  the  presence  of 
the  governor,  never  did  a  condemned  malefactor  feel  more 
acutely ;  he  appeared  to  imagine  that  the  moment  of  his 
execution  approached,  and,  trembling  in  every  joint,  seem- 
ed to  turn  his  eyes  in  search  of  the  executioner.  His  per- 
son was  such  as  may  well  be  conceived  from  his  long 
seclusion  from  human  society ;  his  beard  had  never  been 
shaved  from  the  moment  of  his  first  disappearance  ;  he  was 
clothed  in  some  rags  he  had  picked  up  by  the  way  in  some 
of  his  nocturnal  peregrinations,  and  even  his  own  language 
was  at  first  unutterable  and  unintelligible  by  him. 

After  some  previous  questions,  as  to  what  had  induced 
him  to  form  such  a  resolution,  and  by  what  means  he  had 


THE    MUSEUM.  175 

so  long  subsisted,  the  governor  gave  him  his  pardon,  and 
restored  him  to  society,  of  which  he  afterwards  became 
a  very  useful  member. 


STORY    OF    A    HUNTER. 


THE  following  story  comes  to  us  from  a  friend,  who 
actually  heard  it  related  by  a  person  in  the  manner 
herein  described.  About  thirty-five  years  ago  I  moved 
into  this  country,  which  was  then  nearly  a  wilderness ; 
no  settlements  having  been  made,  excepting  in  a  few 
places  on  the  borders  of  the  lake.  I  arrived  in  the 
spring  of  the  year,  and  commenced  a  clearing  on  the 
farm  I  now  occupy.  By  fall  I  had  built  a  good  log- 
house,  and  temporary  stables  for  my  cattle — had  put  in 
the  ground  ten  acres  of  wheat,  and  looked  forward  to 
the  ensuing  year  for  the  reward  of  my  labors.  My 
wife  and  child  were  all  my  family  ;  neighbors  there  were 
none,  nearer  than  five  or  six  miles,  so  that  visiting  or 
amusements  were  entirely  out  of  the  question.  You 
may,  therefore,  suppose,  that  on  the  approach  of  a  long 
northern  winter,  I  had  ample  time  to  gratify  my  love 
for  hunting,  for  which  I  had  always  a  great  fondness. 
Winter  had  set  in  early,  and  all  my  cares  were  con- 
fined to  keeping  a  sufficient  stock  of  wood  on  hand 
for  fuel,  which  you  may  imagine  was  not  difficult, 
when  the  trees  stood  at  my  door,  and  taking  care  of  the 
few  cattle  of  which  I  was  then  owner.  It  was  one  day, 
I  think  in  the  fore  part  of  December,  when,  having 
finished  my  morning's  work,  I  took  down  my  gun,  and 
told  my  wife  that  I  would,  on  my  return,  please  her 
with  the  sight  of  a  fat  deer.  Deer  are  now  very  plen- 
tiful in  this  part  of  the  country,  but  then  they  were  so 
much  more  so,  that  there  was  little  merit  or  difficulty  in 
achieving  what  I  had  promised.  I  took  my  departure 
about  a  northwest  course  from  my  cabin,  which  led  me 
directly  into  the  forest.  The  snow  was  about  a  foot 
deep,  and  the  wind  blowing  hard  from  the  north,  it 
drifted  much  in  openings ;  yet  this,  I  thought,  was 
in  mv  favor,  as  the  noise  made  among  the  trees  by 


176  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  wind,  prevented  the  game  from  hearing  my  ap- 
proach in  still  hunting.  But  I  was  mistaken  in  my 
calculations  ;  for  I  had  traveled  five  or  six  miles  from 
home,  and  had  not  got  a  shot  at  a  single  deer,  though  I 
had  seen  numbers  of  them  ;  but  they  were  always  on 
the  run,  and  at  too  great  a  distance,  and  all  the  trees 
which  I  saw  showed  that  they  had  scarcely  walked  dur- 
ing the  day. 

1  was  then  a  young  hunter,  but  I  have  since  learned 
that  this  animal  is  always  on  the  move,  and  generally 
runs  throughout  winter  days,  probably  from  the  appre- 
hension of  danger  from  wolves,  which  follow  its  scent 
through  the  snow.  At  length  I  arrived  at  a  large  cedai 
swamp,  on  the  edge  of  which  I  was  struck  by  the  sin- 
gular appearance  of  a  large  stub,  twenty-five  or  thirty 
feet  high,  with  its  bark  off.  From  its  scratched  surface, 
I  had  no  doubt  it  was  climbed  by  raccoons  or  martins, 
which  probably  had  also  a  den  in  it.  From  its  appear- 
ance, I  judged  it  was  hollow.  The  stub  at  its  base 
might  have  been  seven  or  eight  feet  through,  but  eight 
or  ten  feet  higher  up,  its  size  was  much  diminished,  so 
that  I  could  grasp  sufficiently  to  ascend  it,  and  ascer- 
tain what  was  within.  My  gun  and  great-coat  were 
deposited  in  a  secure  place,  and  being  an  expert  climber, 
I  soon  gained  the  top.  As  I  anticipated,  the  stub  was 
hollow,  the  aperture  being  about  two  and  a  half  feet  in 
diameter.  The  day,  you  will  observe,  was  dark  and 
cloudy,  and  looking  down  the  hollow,  I  fancied  I  could 
see  the  bottom  at  no  great  distance ;  but  having  nothing 
to  put  in  to  ascertain  its  depth,  I  concluded  that  I 
would  try  to  touch  the  bottom  with  my  feet.  I  there- 
fore placed  myself  in  the  hole,  and  lowered  myself 
gradually,  expecting  every  moment  that  my  feet  would 
come  in  contact  with  some  animal,  or  the  foot  of  the 
hollow ;  but  feeling  nothing,  I  unthinkingly  continued 
letting  myself  down,  until  my  head  and  hands,  and  my 
whole  person,  were  completely  within  the  centre  of  the 
stub.  At  this  moment  a  sudden  and  strange  fear  came 
over  me ;  I  know  not  from  \\  hat  cause,  for  I  am  not 
naturally  timid.  It  seemed  to  affect  me  with  a  sense  of 
suffocation,  such  as  is  experienced  in  dreams  under  the 
effects  of  nightmare.  Rendered  desperate  by  my  feel- 


THE     MUSEUM.  177 

ings,  I  made  a  violent  attempt  to  extricate  myself, 
when  the  edges  of  the  wood  to  which  I  was  holding, 
treacherously  gave  way,  and  precipitated  me  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  hole,  which  I  found  extended  to  a  level 
with  the  ground.  I  cannot  wholly  account  for  it,  but 
probably  from  the  erect  position  in  which  my  body  was 
necessarily  kept  in  so  narrow  a  tube,  and  my  landing 
on  my  feet  on  a  bed  of  moss,  dried  leaves,  and  other 
soft  substances,  I  sustained  little  or  no  injury  from  so 
great  a  fall ;  and  my  clothes  were  but  little  deranged  in 
my  descent,  owing,  probably,  to  the  smoothness  of  the 
surface,  produced  by  the  long  and  frequent  passing  of 
the  animals  to  and  from  their  den — for  a  den  I  found 
it  to  be.  After  recovering  from  my  fright,  I  had  time 
to  examine  the  interior.  All  was  dark,  and  putting  out 
my  hands  to  feel  the  way,  they  came  in  contact  with 
the  cold  nose,  and  then  the  fur  of  some  beast,  which  I 
immediately  knew  was  a  half  grown  cub,  or  young 
bear. 

Continuing  to  examine,  I  ascertained  there  were 
three  or  four  of  those  animals,  which,  aroused  by  the 
noise  made  in  my  descent,  came  around  and  smelt  of 
me,  uttering  a  mourning  noise,  taking  me,  at  first,  no 
doubt,  for  their  dam ;  but,  after  a  little  examination, 
snuffing  and  snorting  as  if  alarmed,  they  quietly  be- 
took themselves  to  their  couch  on  the  moss,  and  left  me 
to  my  own  gloomy  reflections.  I  knew  they  were  too 
young  to  do  me  any  injury,  but  with  that  knowledge 
came  the  dreadful  certainty,  that  the  mother,  whose 
premises  I  had  so  heedlessly  entered,  was  quite  a  differ- 
ent personage,  and  that  my  life  would  date  but  a  short 
period  after  she  arrived,  as  arrive  she  certainly  would, 
before  many  hours  could  pass  over  my  head.  The  in- 
terior of  the  den  grew  more  visible  after  my  eyes  be- 
came accustomed  to  the  darkness,  and  aided  by  a  little 
light  from  the  top,  I  discovered  that  the  den  was  circu- 
lar, and,  on  the  ground,  was  five  or  six  feet  in  diameter, 
its  circumference  diminishing,  at  the  height  of  seven  or 
eight  feet,  to  a  diameter  of  less  than  three,  owing  to  the 
singular  formation  of  the  trunk,  as  I  have  before  re- 
marked. All  my  attempts  to  reach  the  narrow  part  of 
the  hollow,  in  the  hopes  of  working  my  way  out,  as  a 


178  THE    MUSEUM. 

chimney  sweep  might  have  done,  were  fruitless.  My 
escape  in  this  way,  therefore,  was  impossible.  To  cut 
through  the  trunk  a  hole  sufficient  to  let  out  my  body, 
with  a  small  pocket  knife,  the  only  one  I  had,  would 
have  been  the  work  of  many  weeks,  and  even  months, 
as  from  the  examination  which  I  had  made  of  both  the 
exterior  and  interior,  I  knew  that  it  could  not  be  less 
than  a  foot  thick.  The  knife  was  the  only  weapon 
which  I  possessed,  and  a  hug  of  my  tremendous  adver- 
sary would  deprive  me  of  the  power  to  use  even  so 
contemptible  an  implement ;  and  even  if  I  succeeded  in 
killing  the  bear — which  was  not  to  be  expected — my 
case  was  equally  hopeless,  for  I  should  only  exchange 
a  sudden  death  for  one,  if  possible,  even  more  horrid,  a 
lingering  one  of  famine  and  thirst — for  my  tracks  in 
the  snow  I  knew  were  long  since  covered  by  the  drift, 
and  there  was  no  possibility  of  my  friends  finding  me, 
by  searching  in  a  wilderness  of  many  miles  in  circuit. 
My  situation  was  indeed  hopeless  and  desperate.  As 
the  shades  of  evening  were  now  fast  approaching,  I 
thought  of  my  cheerful  home ;  my  wife  seated  by  the 
fire  with  our  child  in  her  arms,  or  preparing  our  even- 
ing meal,  looking  out  anxiously,  from  time  to  time,  ex- 
pecting my  return.  These,  and  many  more  such 
thoughts,  rushed  through  my  mind,  and  which  way 
soever,  they  were  teeming  with  horror.  At  one  time  I 
had  nearly  determined  to  wreak  my  feelings  upon  the 
cubs,  by  destroying  them,  but  the  wanton  and  useless 
cruelty  of  the  act,  as  they  could  be  of  no  service  to  me, 
then  prevented  me.  Yes,  I  would  be  merciful.  Oh  ! 
you  know  not  how  merciful  one  is,  when  he  feels  that 
he  himself  would  willingly  be  an  object  of  mercy  from 
others.  Two  hours  had  probably  elapsed,  and  to  me 
two  of  the  longest  that  I  ever  experienced,  when  sud- 
denly the  little  light  which  had  illuminated  me  from 
above,  was  gone  ;  I  looked  up  and  could  no  longer  see 
the  sky.  My  ears,  which  at  the  time  were  peculiarly 
sensitive,  were  assailed  with  a  low,  growling  noise, 
such  as  a  bear  makes  on  discovering  an  enemy,  and 
preparing  for  an  attack.  I  thought  that  my  fate  was 
at  hand,  as  this  was  the  mother  descending  to  her 
cubs,  having,  by  acute  organs  of  smell,  discovered 


THE    MUSEUM.  179 

that  her  den  had  been  entered  by  some  enemy.  From 
the  time  I  had  ascertained  my  true  situation,  I  had 
opened  my  knife  and  held  it  ready  in  hand  for  the  en- 
counter, come  when  it  would.  I  now,  therefore,  braced 
myself  for  a  death-grapple  with  my  terrible  antagonist, 
feverishly  awaiting  her  descent.  Bears  always  descend 
in  the  same  manner  as  they  ascend  trees ;  that  is,  the 
head  is  always  upward,  consequently  her  most  assaila- 
ble part  was  exposed  to  me.  A  thought,  quick  as  light- 
ning, rushed  through  my  mind,  that  escape  was  possible, 
and  that  the  bear  might  be  the  means.  Just  as  she  reach- 
ed that  part  where  the  hollow  widened,  and  where,  by  a 
jump,  I  could  reach  her,  I  made  a  desperate  spring,  and 
with  both  hands  firmly  caught  hold  of  the  fur  which 
covered  her  extremities,  giving  at  the  same  time  a  scream, 
which,  in  this  close  den,  sounded  a  thousand  times 
louder  than  any  human  voice  in  the  open  air.  The 
bear,  and  she  was  a  powerful  one,  taken  by  surprise, 
and  unable  to  get  at  me — frightened,  too,  at  the  hideous 
and  appalling  noise  which  I  made — scrambled  for  life 
up  the  hollow.  But  my  weight,  I  found,  was  an  im- 
pediment to  her ;  for  about  half  way  up  I  perceived  that 
she  began  to  lag,  and  notwithstanding  I  continued  to 
scream,  at  length  came  to  a  dead  stand,  apparently  not 
having  strength  enough  to  proceed ;  knowing  that  my 
life  depended  on  her  going  on,  I  instantly  let  go  with 
the  hand  in  which  I  had  my  knife,  driving  it  to  the 
haft  into  the  flesh,  and  redoubling  the  noise  which  I 
had  already  made.  Her  pain  and  fears  gave  her  new 
strength,  and  by  another  effort  she  brought  me  once 
more  to  the  light  of  day,  at  the  top  of  the  stub  ;  nor 
did  she  stop  there  to  receive  my  thanks  for  the  benefit 
which  she  had  conferred  on  me,  but  hastily  descended 
to  the  ground,  and  made  her  way  with  all  speed  to  the 
swamp.  I  sat  for  some  time  on  the  stub  out  of  breath, 
and  hardly  crediting  the  reality  of  my  escape.  After 
giving  thanks  to  that  Providence  which  had  so  won- 
derfully preserved  me,  I  descended  to  the  ground, 
found  my  coat  and  gun  where  I  had  left  them,  and 
reached  home,  after  a  fatiguing  walk  through  the  woods, 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening. 


180  THE    MUSEUM. 


FEMININE    HEROISM. 

BARON  REITZER  was  accustomed  to  spend  the  summer 
at  a  charming  villa,  situated  in  a  most  romantic  part  of 
Germany,  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  main  road. 
His  castle,  standing  at  the  top  of  an  eminence,  correspond- 
ed with  his  large  fortune  :  it  was  spacious  and  elegant,  and 
situated  some  hundred  yards  distance  from  the  village 
which  belonged  to  it. 

Business  obliged  the  baron  to  quit  the  castle  for  a  few 
days,  and  to  leave  his  lady,  a  young  and  charming  woman, 
under  the  protection  of  his  most  faithful  servants.  He  had 
not  been  absent  above  two  days,  when,  as  the  baroness 
was  just  going  to  bed,  a  sudden  and  terrible  noise  was 
heard  in  an  adjoining  apartment.  She  called  for  her  ser- 
vants, but  no  answer  was  returned,  while  the  noise  grew 
louder  every  minute.  Not  being  able  to  conceive  what 
could  be  the  cause  of  this  unusual  uproar,  she  slipped  on 
a  night  gown,  and  went  to  the  door  to  see  what  could 
occasion  (his  increasing  noise. 

Any  woman,  less  intrepid  than  herself,  would  have 
fainted  at  the  dreadful  sight  which  she  beheld  on  opening 
the  door.  Two  of  her  men  servants  lay  half  naked  on  the 
floor,  with  their  brains  dashed  out ;  the  whole  apartment 
was  filled  with  strange  men  of  a  most  horrid  aspect ;  her 
woman  was  kneeling  before  one  of  them,  and  in  that  very 
moment  was  pierced  through  the  heart  by  one  of  the  mid- 
night ruffians.  When  the  door  was  opened,  two  of  these 
barbarians  rushed  towards  it  with  drawn  swords.  What 
man,  however  great  his  courage,  would  not  have  been  ap- 
palled by  terror,  and  either  attempted  to  save  himself  by 
flight,  or  throwing  himself  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  the  rob- 
bers, have  conjured  them  to  save  his  life  !  But  the  baroness 
acted  differently. 

"  Are  you  here  at  last  ?"  exclaimed  she,  with  apparent 
rapture,  flying  towards  her  aggressors  with  an  eagerness 
that  surprised  them,  and  made  them  pause,  just  as  they 
were  ready  to  strike  the  fatal  blow.  "  Are  you  here  at 
last  ?"  exclaimed  she  once  more,  "  I  have  wished  for  a 
long  time  to  see  visitors  like  you."  "  Wished !"  roared 


THE    MUSEUM.  181 

one  of  the  murderers,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ? — I'll 
teach  you " 

He  brandished  his  cutlass,  but  his  comrade  arrested  his 
arm. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  brother,  let  us  hear  what  she  wants 
of  us." 

"  Nothing  else,  my  brave  lads,  but  what  is  agreeable  to 
yourselves.  I  see  you  have  made  quick  work  here.  You 
are  men  of  my  own  mind,  and  you  will  not  repent  it,  if 
you  will  listen  to  me  quietly  for  a  few  moments."  "  Speak  1" 
exclaimed  the  whole  crew.  "  Speak  !  but  be  brief,"  voci- 
ferated the  most  terrible  of  them,  "for  we  shall  soon  send 
you  after  your  people."  "  I  doubt  much  whether  you 
will,"  said  the  lady,  "  after  you  hear  what  I  have  to  say. 
I  am  married  to  the  wealthiest  nobleman  in  the  country ; 
but  the  wife  of  the  meanest  beggar  cannot  be  more  mise- 
rable than  myself,  as  my  tyrant  is  the  meanest  and  most 
jealous  wretch  on  earth.  I  hate  him  more  bitterly  than 
words  can  express,  and  have  long  been  anxious  of  break- 
ing my  fetters,  and  paying  my  tyrant  in  his  own  coin.  I 
should  have  eloped  long  ago  had  I  been  able  to  effect  my 
escape.  My  servants  are  all  his  spies,  and  that  fellow 
yonder,  whose  skull  you  have  so  bravely  handled,  was  the 
worst  of  all.  My  tormentor  even  compelled  me  to  sleep 
alone.  I  am  but  twenty-two  years  old,  and  may,  at  least, 
flatter  myself  of  not  being  totally  destitute  of  personal 
charms,  should  any  of  you  be  willing  to  take  me  with  him. 
1  should  not  hesitate  to  follow  him  ;  no  matter  whether  his 
residence  be  in  a  cavern  or  in  a  village  ale-house.  Nor 
will  you  repent  of  having  saved  my  life.  You  are  in  a 
castle  amply  stored  with  treasures,  but  it  is  impossible  you 
can  be  acquainted  with  every  secret  recess.  I  will  dis- 
cover them  to  you,  and  you  may  treat  me  as  you  have 
treated  my  woman,  if  this  discovery  does  not  make  you 
six  thousand  dollars  richer." 

Robbers  of  this  description  are  indeed  villains  of  the 
blackest  dye,  but  nevertheless  they  cease  not  to  be  men. 
The  unexpected  tenor  of  their  prisoner's  address — the  ap- 
parent unconcern  with  which  she  spoke — the  more  than 
common  charms  of  a  young  female,  only  slightly  dressed 
— all  this  produced  most  singular  effects  in  the  hearts  of 

16 


192  THE     MUSEUM. 

men,  whose  hands  were  just  stained  with  blood.  They 
formed  a  ring,  and  consulted  apart  for  a  few  minutes.  The 
baroness  stood  at  some  distance,  but  made  not  the  least  at- 
tempt to  escape  ;  she  heard  several  of  them  say,  "  Down 
with  her,  and  the  farce  will  be  at  an  end  ;"  but  it  scarcely 
changed  her  color,  as  she  also  remarked,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  this  proposal  was  objected  to  by  the  rest.  One 
of  the  band,  who  seemed  to  be  captain  of  the  banditti,  now 
went  up  to  her,  asking  her  sternly,  whether  her  words 
might  be  relied  on  ;  whether  she  was  really  desirous  of 
eloping  from  her  lord,  and  accompanying  them ;  whether 
she  was  willing  to  surrender  her  person  to  any  one  for  en- 
joyment ?  She  replied  to  all  these  questions  in  the  affirma- 
tive ;  and  not  only  endured,  but  returned  the  kiss  of  the 
robber: — for  what  does  not  extreme  necessity  excuse. 
Having  by  these  means  gained  the  confidence  of  the  rob- 
bers, their  leader  said  to  her,  "  Come,  then,  and  show  us 
the  secret  recesses  of  the  castle  ;  I  know  it  is  dangerous 
to  rely  on  the  sincerity  of  women  of  your  rank — we  will 
venture  it  for  once  ;  but  you  may  rest  assured  I  will  cleave 
your  head  to  your  shoulders,  though  it  were  ten  times 
more  charming,  if  you  make  the  least  attempt  to  escape, 
or  impose  upon  us."  "  Then  my  head  will  be  perfectly 
safe,"  replied  the  baroness,  smiling,  as  if  she  really  burned 
with  an  eagerness  for  plunder,  and  a  long  wished  escape. 
Snatching  up  a  lighted  candle,  she  conducted  the  band  to 
every  apartment ;  opening  every  door,  closet,  and  chest, 
unasked ;  assisting  in  emptying  their  contents ;  diverting 
the  robbers  with  the  most  jovial  sallies  of  humor ;  jumping 
with  apparent  indifference  over  the  dead  bodies  of  her 
mangled  servants ;  conversing  with  every  one  of  these 
plunderers,  as  if  they  were  old  acquaintances  ;  and  mani- 
festing a  degree  of  satisfaction  that  could  not  but  remove 
every  suspicion. 

Plate,  money,  jewels,  and  every  thing  valuable  that  could 
be  found  were  now  collected,  and  the  captain  ordered 
his  gang  to  prepare  instantly  for  quitting  the  castle,  when 
his  intended  mistress  suddenly  laid  hold  of  his  arm.  "  Did 
I  not  tell  you,"  exclaimed  she,  "  that  you  would  not  repent 
of  having  saved  my  life,  and  that  I  should  prove  myself 
your  real  friend  ;  you  are  dexterous  enough  in  emptying 


THE     MUSEUM.  183 

the  chests  you  find  open ;  but  your  lynx  eyes  could  never 
discover  the  secret  recesses  of  this  castle."  "  Secret  ? — 
what  ? — where  ?"  most  eagerly  exclaimed  the  whole  band. 
"  Do  you  imagine,"  rejoined  the  baroness,  "  that  drawers 
which  are  full  of  the  most  valuable  articles  contain  no  se- 
cret recesses  ?  look  here,  and  you  will  soon  see-  how  blind 
you  were."  So  saying,  the  baroness  pointed  to  a  secret 
spring  in  the  baron's  writing  desk.  The  robbers  opened 
it,  and  shouted  with  joy  and  astonishment  on  discovering 
six  rouleaus,  each  containing  two  hundred  ducats.  "  Bra- 
vo !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  I  see  now  that  thou  art  an 
excellent  woman,  thou  shalt  lead  the  life  of  a  duchess." 
"  You  will  be  still  better  pleased  with  me,"  interrupted  she, 
laughing,  "when  I  show  you  the  last,  the  principal  hoard 
of  my  tyrant.  I  can  easily  perceive  that  your  spies  have  in- 
formed you  of  his  absence  ;  but  tell  me,  have  they  also  told 
you  that  he  received  the  day  before  yesterday,  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  ?"  "  Not  a  syllable  ;  where  are  they  ?"  "  Un- 
der lock  and  key ;  you  would  never  have  found  the  iron 
chest  in  which  they  are,  were  I  not  leagued  with  you. 
Follow  me,  comrades,  we  have  made  clear  work  above 
ground  ;  let  us  see  what  we  can  do  under  ground.  Fol- 
low me  to  the  cellar." 

The  robbers  followed  her ;  but  took  the  precaution  to 
guard  against  any  sudden  surprise,  by  posting  a  sentinel  at 
the  entrance  of  the  cellar,  which  was  secured  by  a  strong 
iron  trap  door.  The  baroness  pretended  to  take  no  notice 
of  this,  leading  the  band  onward  to  the  most  remote  recess 
of  the  spacious  cellar.  Having  unlocked  a  door,  a  large 
iron  chest  was  discovered  in  a  corner;  "Here,"  said  she, 
giving  a  bunch  of  keys  to  the  captain,  "  try  whether  you 
can  open  it,  and  take  its  contents  in  lieu  of  a  dowry,  if  you 
obtain  the  consent  of  your  companions." 

The  robber  tried  one  key  after  another,  but  none  fitted 
the  key  hole.  He  grew  impatient,  and  the  baroness  affect- 
ed to  be  still  more  so.  "  Let  me  try,"  said  she,  "  I  hope  I 
shall  be  more  successful.  I  am  fearful  lest  the  dawn  of 
morning — Hah  !  hah  !  I  now  conceive  why  neither  you  nor 
myself  can  open  it.  Excuse  my  mistake  ;  welcome  as  your 
visit  is  to  me,  the  joy  of  your  unexpected  arrival  has,  nev- 
ertheless, disconcerted  me  a  little.  I  have  taken  the  wrx.i\j> 


184  THE    MUSEUM. 

bunch  of  keys.  Have  patience  only  two  minutes  !  I  shall 
be  back  in  a  trice."  With  these  words  she  flew  up  the 
stairs,  and  before  two  minutes  were  elapsed,  the  sound  of 
her  footsteps  was  already  heard  from  the  court  yard.  On 
coming  noar  the  cellar  door,  she  exclaimed,  with  pretend- 
ed joy,  though  out  of  breath,  "  I  have  it !  I  have  found  it !' 
and  in  the  same  moment  bounded  suddenly  against  the 
sentinel  at  the  entrance,  throwing  him  headlong  down  the 
cellar  stairs.  The  trap-door  was  bolted  with  the  quickness 
of  lightning,  and  the  whole  band  were  encaged  in  the  cel- 
lar. All  this  was  the  work  of  one  moment.  In  the  next 
she  flew  over  the  court-ydrd,  setting  fire  to  a  solitary  sta- 
ble full  of  straw  and  hay  and  the  flames  blazed  instanta- 
neously aloft.  The  watchmen  in  the  adjacent  village 
observed  the  blaze,  and  rung  the  alarm  bell.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments the  castle-yard  was  crowded  with  peasants.  The 
baroness  ordered  some  of  them  to  extinguish  the  flames, 
while  she  conducted  the  rest  to  the  baron's  armory,  and 
having  distributed  swords  and  fire-arms  amongst  them, 
desired  them  to  surround  the  cellar.  Her  orders  were 
obeyed,  and  not  one  of  the  band  escaped  his  well-merited 
fate. 


THE    AMERICAN    DUELLISTS. 

THE  following  relation,  which  is  derived  from  the  best 
authorities,  is  thus  detailed  in  a  New  York  publication. 

Previous  to  the  American  Revolution,  two  young  men, 
Charles  Mercer  and  Richard  Reynolds,  were  students  to- 
gether at  one  of  our  most  respectable  colleges.  They 
were  in  the  same  class  and  intimate  friends.  Charles 
Mercer  was  the  son  of  a  mechanic,  who  labored  hard  and 
suffered  many  deprivations  that  he  might  give  his  son  a 
good  education.  Charles  was  superior  to  most  young 
men  in  personal  appearance,  and  was  remarkable  for  his 
strength  and  agility  in  athletic  exercise.  His  disposition 
was  noble  and  generous.  At  the  expiration  of  two  years 
in  college  he  was  informed  by  his  father  that  he  could  no 
longer  support  him  there,  from  the  unfortunate  failure  of  a 
friend  for  whom  he  had  become  responsible,  without  de 


FBMININB   HEROISM. 

Sw  pajo  184,  vol.  I. 


a  u 


THE    MUSEUM.  185 

priving  the  younger  portion  of  his  family  of  their  neces- 
sary supplies.  Mercer  prepared  to  leave  college  with  a 
heart  lightened  by  the  reflection  that  he  should  no  longer 
be  a  burden  but  an  assistant  in  his  father's  family.  At  this 
period,  Reynolds,  with  a  generosity  that  is  seldom  found, 
informed  Mercer's  father  by  letter  that  he  would  from  his 
own  abundant  means,  support  his  friend  until  he  should  be 
able  by  his  own  exertions  to  repay  him.  He  informed 
Mercer's  father,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  growth  of  their 
mutual  love  and  esteem.  All  the  obligations  which  young 
Mercer  could  urge  against  this  arrangement,  were  over- 
ruled by  his  parents,  and  he  consented  to  stay.  Richard 
Reynolds  was  born  of  the  most  respectable  parents  in  the 

town  of  B .    He  was  an  only  son,  heir  to  great  wealth, 

and  possessed  an  abundant  share  of  spirits  and  vivacity. 
He  was  esteemed  as  one  of  the  best  scholars  in  the  class, 
out  rather  averse  to  mathematical  demonstrations.  By 
his  classmates  he  was  deemed  a  wild,  but  not  a  vicious 
fellow.  He  scorned  to  do  a  mean  action,  but  too  easily 
suffered  himself  to  indulge  in  those  vices  which  eventually 
lead  to  crime.  Mercer  now  no  longer  a  faithful  adviser, 
at  the  solicitation  and  by  the  example  of  Reynolds,  became 
his  companion  in  many  imprudent  excesses.  One  evening, 
the  two  friends,  with  two  of  their  classmates,  assembled 
to  drink  wine,  and  have  what  is  generally  termed  a  social 
meeting.  Presently  cards  were  introduced,  and  they  sat 
down  to  gamble.  In  choosing  partners  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  game,  Reynolds  and  Mercer  were  opposed  to 
one  another.  Heated  with  wine,  Reynolds  betted  extrava- 
gantly, and  lost  seven  games  in  succession.  At  the  end  of 
the  sixth,  he  declared  that  the  opposite  party  had  cheated. 
This  gave  rise  to  some  dispute,  but  saying  that  he  would 
try  them  again,  he  doubled  the  bet,  and  lost  the  seventh. 
Irritated  beyond  measure,  and  always  violent  in  his  pas- 
sions, which  were  then  much  heated  by  wine,  he  rose  up, 
threw  down  his  cards,  and  struck  Mercer  in  the  face,  at  the 
same  time  accusing  him  of  cheating.  A  short  contest  en- 
sued, when  Mercer  by  his  great  personal  strength,  seized 
both  the  hands  of  his  antagonist,  and  held  him  perfectly 
at  his  mercy.  The  two  other  young  men  were  ineffec- 
tually appealed  to,  and  refusing  to  interfere  in  the  quarrel, 

16* 


186  THE     MUSEUM. 

left  the  room.  Reynolds,  enraged  to  be  thus  in  the  power 
of  one  so  much  his  debtor,  called  Mercer  a  coward,  a  fawn- 
ing hypocrite,  told  him  he  dared  not  fight  him  like  a  gentle- 
man with  swords,  and  charged  him  with  the  benefits  con- 
ferred on  him  by  himself.  "  You  have  dissolved  every  tie," 
answered  Mercer ;  "  I  will  not  be  called  a  coward  or  hy- 
pocrite by  any  man.  Your  past  favors — would  to  God  I 
had  never  received  them — your  future  favors  I  disdain. 
I  will  meet  you  this  moment,  at  any  place  you  appoint." 
They  immediately  sallied  forth  as  the  morning  dawned,  to 
a  retired  spot,  and  drew  their  swords  upon  each  other. 
Mercer  had  learnt  the  art  of  fencing  of  an  uncle  who  was 
a  good  swordsman,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  superior  to 
Reynolds.  He  therefore  contented  himself  with  parrying  the 
violent  thrusts  of  his  adversary,  and  at  the  same  time  gave 
him  some  slight  wounds  to  show  that  he  was  completely  in 
his  power.  Reynolds  was  only  rendered  by  this  conduct 
more  furious,  and  even  foamed  at  his  mouth  with  violent  rage. 
Extreme  anger  seems  to  drive  away  every  other  passion 
from  the  human  heart  but  cunning.  Cunning  is  ever  the 
faithful  ally  and  necessary  companion  of  revenge.  Rey- 
nolds suddenly  dropping  the  point  of  his  sword,  thrust  it 
into  the  ground,  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  Give  me  your 
hand,  you  are  still  the  best  of  friends — I  am  in  the  wrong." 
Mercer  replied,  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  you  return  to  your 
right  mind.  I  hope  our  friendship  will  become  the  stronger 
from  this  unhappy  interruption,  but  I  for  ever  decline  your 
further  pecuniary  assistance."  At  the  commencement  of 
the  contest,  they  pulled  off  their  coats.  Mercer  turned 
round  to  put  his  on,  and  while  he  was  swinging  it  over  his 
head,  Reynolds  drew  his  sword  from  the  ground  and  stab- 
bed him  to  the  heart.  No  sooner  was  the  deed  done  than 
his  reason,  which  had  been  clouded  by  passion,  returned. 
He  raised  the  bleeding  body  of  his  friend  who  had  fallen 
on  his  face  ;  beheld  his  ghastly  countenance  just  fixed  in 
death ;  vainly  attempted  to  staunch  the  blood  which  gush- 
ed from  the  wound,  and  fell  back  in  a  swoon  of  agony  and 
distress.  So  soon  does  punishment  follow  in  the  footsteps 
of  crime.  By  the  assistance  of  his  still  fond  father,  he  es- 
caped to  France  in  a  merchantman.  For  a  long  time  he 
wandered  through  different  parts  of  Europe,  till  by  the  in  • 


THE    MUSEUM.  187 

tervention  of  his  father's  powerful  friends  in  England,  he 
obtained  the  pardon  of  the  king.  "  Return,  my  son,"  said 
his  father,  "  and  close  my  eyes  in  peace,  for  my  life  is  draw- 
ing to  a  close."  He  embarked  in  a  vessel  bound  to  Amer- 
ica, but  before  he  arrived  his  parents  had  both  died,  leaving 
an  immense  fortune  at  his  disposal.  But  destitute  of  friends, 
of  relations,  shunned  by  the  virtuous,  pitied  by  few,  life 
was  a  burden.  He  presented  himself  at  the  bar  of  justice, 
and  tearing  the  king's  pardon  in  pieces  before  the  eyes  of 
the  judges,  he  demanded  the  punishment  due  to  his  crime. 
"  I  wish  for  death — may  my  execution  be  a  warning  exam- 
ple to  those  who  come  after  me."  The  judges  refused  to 
pronounce  his  doom,  declaring  that  the  king's  pardon  had 
been  given,  and  though  the  certificate  had  been  destroyed, 
it  still  remained  in  force.  Reynolds  returned  home,  but  his 
peace  of  mind  was  for  ever  lost.  In  his  reveries,  in  the 
midst  of  the  crowded  circle,  he  would  start  and  shriek,  de- 
claring with  great  vehemence  of  gesture,  that  he  saw  the 
bloody  body  of  Mercer.  Nothing  could  soothe  the  irrita- 
bility of  his  mind ;  the  hideous  spectacle  met  him  in  every 
path,  and  was  the  subject  of  his  nightly  dreams.  The  hu- 
man frame  is  incapable  of  enduring  for  any  length  of 
time  such  distress.  He  grew  emaciated,  mortality  quitted 
her  moorings,  and  he  died  in  all  the  agonies  of  despair. 


DANGEROUS  AERIAL  VOYAGE    OP    THE    DUKE    DE    CHARTRES. 

ON  the  15th  of  July,  1784,  the  duke  de  Chartres,  the 
two  brothers  Roberts,  and  another  person,  ascended  with 
an  inflammable  air  balloon,  from  the  park  of  St.  Cloud,  at 
52  minutes  past  seven  in  the  morning.  This  balloon  was 
of  an  oblong  form,  its  dimensions  being  55  feet  by  34.  It 
ascended  with  its  greatest  extension  nearly  horizontal ;  and 
after  remaining  in  the  atmosphere  about  45  minutes,  it  de- 
scended at  a  small  distance  from  its  place  of  ascension. 
But  the  incidents  that  occurred  during  this  aerial  excur- 
sion, deserve  particular  notice,  as  nothing  like  it  has  hap- 
pened before  to  any  other  aerial  travellers.  This  machine 
contained  an  inferior  small  balloon,  filled  with  common  air ; 


138  THE    MUSEUM. 

oy  which  means  it  was  supposed  that  they  might  regulate 
the  ascent  and  the  descent  of  the  machine,  without  any  loss 
of  the  hydrogen  gas,  or  of  ballast.  The  boat  was  furnished 
with  a  helm  and  oars,  that  were  intended  to  guide  the  ma 
chine,  but  which  were  in  this,  as  well  as  in  every  other  simi- 
lar attempt,  found  to  be  quite  useless. 

On  the  level  of  the  sea,  the  mercury  in  the  barometer 
stood  at  30.25  inches,  and  at  the  place  of  ascension  it  stood 
at  30.12.  Three  minutes  after  its  ascension,  the  balloon 
was  lost  in  the  clouds,  and  the  aerial  voyagers  lost  sight 
of  the  earth,  being  involved  in  a  dense  vapor.  Here  an 
unusual  agitation  of  the  air,  somewhat  like  a  whirlwind,  in 
a  moment  turned  the  machine  three  times  from  the  right 
to  the  left.  The  violent  shocks  which  the  adventurers  suf- 
fered prevented  their  using  any  of  the  means  prepared  for 
the  direction  of  the  machine ;  and  they  even  tore  away 
the  silk  stuff  of  which  the  helm  was  made.  Never,  said 
they,  a  more  dreadful  situation  presented  itself  to  any  eye, 
than  that  in  which  they  were  involved.  An  unbounded 
ocean  of  shapeless  clouds  rolled  beneath,  and  seemed  to 
forbid  their  return  to  the  earth,  which  was  still  invisible. 
The  agitation  of  the  balloon  became  greater  every  moment. 
They  cut  the  cords  which  held  the  anterior  balloon,  which 
consequently  fell  on  the  bottom  of  the  external  balloon,  just 
upon  the  aperture  of  the  tube  that  went  down  to  the  boat, 
and  stopped  that  communication.  At  this  time  the  ther- 
mometer was  a  little  above  44°.  A  gust  of  wind  from  be- 
low drove  the  balloon  upwards,  to  the  extremity  of  the 
vapor,  where  the  appearance  of  the  sun  showed  them  the 
existence  of  nature  :  but  now,  both  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and 
the  diminished  density  of  the  atmosphere,  occasioned  such 
a  dilatation  of  the  gas  that  the  bursting  of  the  balloon  was 
aprehended ;  to  avoid  which,  they  introduced  a  stick 
through  the  tube,  and  endeavored  to  remove  the  inner  bal- 
loon, which  stopped  the  aperture  within  the  external  bal- 
loon ;  but  the  dilatation  of  the  gas  pressed  the  inner 
balloon  so  forcibly  against  that  aperture,  as  to  render  every 
attempt  ineffectual.  During  this  time  they  continually 
ascended,  until  the  mercury  in  the  barometer  stood  not 
higher  than  24.36  inches ;  which  showed  their  height  above 
the  surface  of  the  earth  to  be  about  5100  feet.  Undei 


THE     MUSEUM.  189 

these  dreadful  circumstances,  they  thought  it  necessary  to 
make  a  hole  in  the  balloon,  in  order  to  give  exit  to  the  gas ; 
and  accordingly  the  duke  himself,  with  one  of  the  spears 
of  the  banners,  made  two  holes  in  the  balloon,  which 
opened  a  rent  of  about  seven  or  eight  feet.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  they  then  descended  rapidly,  seeing,  at  first, 
no  object  either  on  earth  or  in  the  heavens ;  but  in  a  mo- 
ment after,  they  discovered  the  fields,  and  that  they  were 
descending  straight  into  a  lake,  wherein  they  would  inevi- 
tably have  fallen,  had  they  not  quickly  thrown  over  about 
60  pounds  weight  of  ballast,  which  occasioned  their  com- 
ing down  about  30  feet  beyond  the  edge  of  the  lake.  Not- 
withstanding this  rapid  descent,  none  of  the  four  adven- 
turers received  any  hurt ;  and  it  is  remarkable,  that  out  of 
six  glass  bottles,  full  of  liquor,  which  were  simply  laid  down 
in  the  boat,  one  only  was  found  broken. 


MARION  THE  REPUBLICAN  GENERAL. 

WE  received,  says  his  biographer,  a  flag  from  the  enemy 
in  Georgetown,  S.  C.,  the  object  of  which  was  to  make 
some  arrangements  about  the  exchange  of  prisoners.  The 
flag,  after  the  usual  ceremony  of  blindfolding,  was  con- 
ducted into  Marion's  encampment.  When  led  into  Mari- 
on's presence,  and  the  bandage  taken  from  his  eyes,  he  be- 
held in  our  hero  a  swarthy,  smoke  dried  little  man,  with 
scarcely  enough  of  threadbare  homespun  to  cover  his 
nakedness  !  and,  instead  of  tall  ranks  of  gaily-dressed  sol- 
diers, a  handful  of  sun-burnt  yellow  legged  militia-men, 
some  roasting  potatoes,  and  some  asleep,  with  their  black 
firelocks  and  powder-horns  lying  by  them  on  the  logs. 
Having  recovered  a  little  from  his  surprise,  he  presented 
his  letter  to  General  Marion,  who  perused  it,  and  soon 
settled  every  thing  to  his  satisfaction. 

The  officer  took  up  his  hat  to  retire. — "  Oh  no  !"  said 
Marion,  "  it  is  now  about  our  time  of  dining ;  and  I  hope, 
sir,  you  Will  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to  din- 
ner." 

At  the  mention  of  the  word  dinner,  the  British  officer 


190  THE    MUSEUM. 

looked  around  him,  but,  to  his  great  mortification,  could 
see  no  sign  of  a  pot,  pan,  Dutch  oven,  or  any  other  cook- 
ing utensil,  that  could  raise  the  spirits  of  a  hungry  man. 

"  Well,  Tom,"  said  the  general  to  one  of  his  men,  "  come, 
give  us  our  dinner." — The  dinner  to  which  he  alluded  was 
no  other  than  a  heap  of  sweet  potatoes,  that  were  very 
snugly  roasting  under  the  embers,  and  which  Tom,  with 
his  pine  stick  poker,  soon  liberated  from  their  ashy  confine- 
ment, pinching  them  every  now  and  then  with  his  fingers, 
especially  the  big  ones,  to  see  whether  they  were  well  done 
or  not.  Then  having  cleansed  them  of  the  ashes,  partly 
by  blowing  them  with  his  breath,  and  partly  by  brushing 
them  with  the  sleeve  of  his  old  cotton  shirt,  he  piled  some 
of  the  best  on  a  large  piece  of  bark,  and  placed  them  be- 
tween the  British  officer  and  Marion,  on  the  trunk  of  the 
fallen  pine  on  which  they  sat. 

"  I  fear,  sir,"  said  the  general,  "  our  dinner  will  not  prove 
so  palatable  to  you  as  I  could  wish — but  it  is  the  best  we 
have."  The  officer,  who  was  a  well  bred  man,  took  up 
one  of  the  potatoes,  and  effected  to  feed,  as  if  he  had  found 
a  great  dainty,  but  it  was  very  plain  that  he  ate  more  from 
good  manners,  than  good  appetite. 

Presently  he  broke  out  into  a  hearty  laugh :  Marion 
looked  surprised — "  I  beg  pardon,  general,"  said  he,  "  but 
one  cannot,  you  know,  always  command  one's  conceits. 
I  was  thinking  how  droll  some  of  my  brother  officers  would 
look,  if  our  government  were  to  give  them  such  a  bill  of  fare 
as  this." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Marion,  "  it  is  not  equal  to  their  style 
of  dining  ?"  "No,  indeed,"  quoth  the  officer,  "  and  this,  I 
imagine,  is  one  of  your  accidental  Lent  dinners — a  sort  of 
ban  yan ;  in  general  no  doubt,  you  live  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter ?"  "  Rather  worse,"  answered  the  general,  "  for  often 
we  do  not  get  enough  of  this."  "  Heavens  !"  rejoined  the 
officer,  "  but,  probably  what  you  lose  in  meal  you  make  up 
in  malt — though  stinted  in  provisions,  you  draw  noble 
pay."  "Not  a  cent,  sir,"  said  Marion,  "not  a  cent." 
"  Heavens  and  earth  !  then  you  must  be  in  a  bad  box ;  I 
don't  see,  general,  how  you  can  stand  it."  "  Why,  sir," 
replied  Marion,  with  a  smile  of  self  approbation,  "these 
things  depend  on  feeling."  The  Englishman  said,  "  he  did 


THE     MUSEUM.  191 

not  believe  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  reconcile  his  feel- 
ings to  a  soldier's  life  on  Gen.  Marion's  terms — all  fighting, 
no  pay,  and  no  provisions  but  potatoes." 

"  Why,  sir,"  answered  the  general,  "  the  heart  is  all  ;  and 
when  that  is  much  interested,  a  man  can  do  any  thing. 
Many  a  youth  would  think  it  hard  to  indent  himself  a  slave 
for  fourteen  years  ;  but  let  him  be  over  head  and  years  in 
love,  and  with  such  a  beauteous  sweetheart  as  Rachel, 
and  he  will  think  no  more  of  fourteen  years'  servitude  than 
young  Jacob  did.  Well,  now  this  is  exactly  my  case — I 
am  in  love,  and  rny  sweetheart  is  Liberty :  be  that  heaven- 
ly nymph  my  champion,  and  these  woods  shall  have  charms 
beyond  London  and  Paris  in  slavery.  To  have  no  proud 
monarch  driving  over  me  with  his  gilt  coaches — nor  his 
host  of  excisemen  and  tax-gatherers  insulting  and  robbing : 
but  to  be  my  own  master,  my  own  prince  and  sovereign 
— gloriously  preserving  my  national  dignity,  and  pursuing 
my  true  happiness — planting  my  vineyards,  and  eating  their 
luscious  fruit ;  sowing  my  fields,  and  reaping  the  golden 
grain  ;  and  seeing  millions  of  brothers  all  around  me  equally 
free  and  happy  as  myself.  This  sir,  is  what  I  long  for." 

The  officer  replied,  that  both  as  a  man  and  a  Briton, 
he  must  certainly  subscribe  to  this  as  a  happy  state  of 
things. 

"  Happy,"  quoth  Marion, "  yes,  happy,  indeed ;  and  I 
would  rather  fight  for  such  blessings  for  my  country,  and 
feed  on  roots,  than  keep  aloof,  though  wallowing  in  all  the 
luxuries  of  Solomon  ;  for  now,  sir,  I  walk  the  soil  that  gave 
me  birth,  and  exult  in  the  thought  that  I  am  not  unworthy 
of  it.  I  look  upon  these  venerable  trees  around  me,  and 
feel  that  I  do  not  dishonor  them — I  think  of  my  own  sacred 
rights,  and  rejoice  that  I  have  not  basely  deserted  them. 
And,  when  I  look  forward  to  the  long,  long  ages  of  pos- 
terity, I  glory  in  the  thought  that  I  am  fighting  their  battles. 
The  children  of  distant  generations  may  never  hear  my 
name,  but  still  it  gladdens  my  heart  to  think  that  I  am 
now  contending  for  their  freedom,  with  all  its  countless 
blessings." 

I  looked  at  Marion  as  he  uttered  these  sentiments,  and 
fancied  I  felt  as  when  I  heard  the  last  words  of  the  brave 
De  Kalb  ;  the  Englishman  hung  his  honest  head,  and  look- 


192  THE    MUSEUM. 

ed,  I  thought,  as  if  he  had  seen  the  upbraiding  ghosts  of  his 
illustrious  countrymen,  Sidney  and  Hampden. 

On  his  return  to  Georgetown  he  was  asked  by  Colonel 
Watson,  why  he  looked  so  serious ?  "I  have  cause,  sir," 
said  he, "  to  look  so  serious."  "  What !  has  General  Marion 
refused  to  treat?"  "No,  sir."  "Well  then,  has  old 
Washington  defeated  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  broke  up 
our  army  ?"  "  No,  sir,  not  that  either :  but  worse."  "  Ah ! 
what  can  be  worse  ?"  "  Why.  sir,  I  have  seen  an  Ame- 
rican general  and  his  officers  without  pay,  almost  without 
clothes,  living  on  roots,  and  drinking  water,  and  all  for 
Liberty!  What  chance  have  we  against  such  men." — 
Marion's  Life 


ELIJAH   P.    GOODRICH. 

Commonly  called  Major  Goodrich. 

THE  first  account  we  have  of  this  wretch  is,  that  he  en- 
tered as  a  foremast  hand  on  board  the  schooner  Jones 
Eddy,  of  Portsmouth,  Richard  Sutton,  master.  The  vessel 
was  bound  to  the  West  Indies.  During  his  stay  on  board, 
Goodrich  behaved  in  a  very  disorderly  manner,  was  habi- 
tually disobedient,  and  more  than  once  endeavored  to  bring 
about  a  mutiny.  The  Jones  Eddy  touched  at  Nevis,  St. 
Christopher,  and  St.  Croix,  at  which  latter  place  Goodrich 
deserted,  and  the  master  considered  himself  fortunate  in 
being  rid  of  him.  Beside  this  account,  Mr.  Sutton  de- 
posed that  his  character  was  wholly  bad,  and  that  he  was 
unworthy  of  the  least  confidence. 

We  next  find  him  established  as  a  merchant  at  Bangor, 
in  Maine,  and  enjoying  considerable  credit.  In  December, 
1816,  he  left  Bangor  in  a  single  sleigh  for  Boston,  and 
reached  Brunswick  without  mischance.  Here  he  gave  the 
first  proof  of  that  fertility  of  invention  which  has  rendered 
him  so  distinguished,  and  might  have  insured  for  him  a  high 
rank  among  the  American  poets,  had  it  been  properly  di- 
rected. He  told  the  landlord  of  the  inn  where  he  put  up, 
tnat  he  had  made  his  fortune  the  spring  before  by  catching 


THE    MUSEUM.  193 

shad,  and  his  method  of  taking  these  fishes  was  truly  in- 
genious. He  had  moored  a  scow  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  he  said,  and  built  a  rail  fence  around  it.  Finding 
their  passage  up  stream  obstructed,  the  shad  would  leap 
into  the  scow  as  fast  as  ten  men  could  secure  them. 

He  tarried  long  enough  at  Portland  to  buy  a  pair  of  pis- 
tols of  Mr.  E.  Wyer.  He  also  offered  a  number  of  sol- 
diers' land  patents  for  sale,  but  was  unable  to  show  any 
of  them  when  asked.  At  Alfred,  Mr.  Goodrich  put  up  at 
a  tavern  where  he  had  a  conversation  with  the  landlord's 
son  on  the  topics  of  lumber  and  ship-building.  In  this  dis- 
course he  again  indulged  his  predilection  for  the  marvel- 
lous, saying  he  had  built  a  large  ship  entirely  of  wild  juni- 
per, and  sent  her  to  Boston.  When  on  the  point  of  his 
departure,  as  the  young  man  was  putting  his  baggage  into 
his  sleigh,  he  desired  him  to  be  careful  of  the  pistols,  and 
observed  it  was  very  dangerous  for  a  gentleman  in  his 
capacity  to  travel  unarmed.  Before  he  left  the  place, 
however,  he  stopped  to  breakfast  at  another  inn,  where  he 
expressed  his  fear  of  being  robbed,  but  consoled  himself 
writh  the  reflection  that  he  had  an  excellent  pair  of  pistols 
about  him.  At  Berwick  he  again  threw  the  reins  on  the 
neck  of  his  fancy,  and  told  a  very  worthy  landlady  that  he 
had  lived  in  Bangor  ten  years,  had  made  his  fortune,  and 
was  now  returning  home  in  style,  as  became  him,  with  be- 
tween four  and  five  thousand  dollars  in  his  pockets.  He 
again  avowed  his  apprehension  of  robbery,  but  said  it 
would  take  at  least  four  stout  men  to  plunder  him,  as  he 
was  well  armed. 

At  Dover,  Goodrich  put  up  for  the  night  at  Mr.  Riley's 
inn.  In  the  morning,  he  brought  his  portmanteau  from  his 
bed  chamber  into  the  room  where  Mr.  Riley  was  sitting, 
and  producing  a  pocket  pistol,  said,  "  old  daddy  are  you 
not  afraid  of  this  ?"  Mr.  Riley,  though  a  very  old  man, 
was  nothing  daunted  by  this  very  uncivil  question,  and 
coolly  replied,  "  No,  boy,  nor  of  you  either.  I  have  seen 
more  gunpowder  burnt  when  America  was  fighting  for  her 
independence  than  you  ever  saw  in  your  life."  Satisfied 
with  this  courageous  demonstration,  Goodrich  put  up  his 
pistol  and  departed. 

When  he  arrived  at  Exeter  he  called  for  a  dinner,  and 

17 


194  THE    MUSEUM. 

put  up  his  sleigh,  having  resolved  to  perform  the  rest  of 
his  journey  on  horseback.  He  sent  a  boy  to  buy  him  some 
very  small  pistol  balls,  which  when  he  had  gotten,  he  found 
too  large  for  his  purpose,  and  the  youth  then  procured 
some  still  less.  He  next  asked  for  a  private  apartment,  in 
which  he  managed  to  make  it  sufficiently  public  that  lie 
was  loading  a  pocket  pistol,  probably  the  same  he  had 
shown  to  Mr.  Riley.  Thus  prepared  to  resist  any  attempt 
at  violence,  he  mounted  his  horse  amidst  the  laughter  of 
the  bystanders,  and  set  off  on  the  road  to  Boston. 

He  reached  Kensington  before  dark,  and  then,  in  pass- 
ing through  Salisbury,  missed  his  way — as  he  swore.  It 
is  probable  he  was  again  misled  by  his  imagination  in  this 
particular,  as  there  was  but  one  road  too  plain  to  be  miss- 
ed. He  reached  Essex  Bridge  in  safety  just  before  nine 
o'clock,  paid  his  toll  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ebenezer  Pear- 
son, and  passed  over.  Two  wagons,  driven  by  two  men 
named  Keyser  and  Shaw,  passed  immediately  after,  and 
before  these  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill  next  beyond  the 
bridge  the  mail  stage  overtook  and  passed  them.  As  to 
what  happened  to  the  Major  after  he  crossed  the  bridge 
we  must  take  his  own  word,  and  we  are  sorry  its  author- 
ity is  no  better. 

As  he  was  riding  up  the  hill,  and  at  the  distance  of  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  bridge,  he  swore  that  a  man 
sprang  toward  him  from  the  side  of  the  road.  His  horse 
started  and  had  nearly  thrown  him.  The  man  seized  his 
bridle,  presented  a  pistol,  and  demanded  his  money.  The 
Major  desired  him  to  wrait  till  he  could  get  it,  and  under 
pretence  of  feeling  for  his  valuables,  cocked  a  pistol,  and 
tried  to  strike  the  robber's  weapon  aside.  The  thief  fired 
just  as  the  Major  was  presenting  his  pistol,  and  at  the  same 
moment  saw  two  others  approaching.  He,  at  that  moment, 
became  insensible,  from  some  cause  not  specified. 

When  his  senses  returned,  the  robbers  were  dragging 
him  into  the  field  hard  by.  He  cried  for  help — and  they 
choked  him.  He  attempted  to  bite,  but  finding  resistance 
vain,  at  last  became  passive.  They  jumped  on  him,  strip- 
ped him,  turned  him  over  and  finally  left  him.  He  then 
again  cried  for  help  and  they  returned.  He  rushed  on 


THE    MUSETJM.  195 

them  and  seized  one,  but  was  overpowered  in  the  struggle 
and  again  left  senseless. 

Mark,  reader,  while  this  violent  transaction  was  going 
on,  while  Major  Goodrich  was  being  maltreated  by  the 
robbers,  while  he  was  crying  for  help  and  struggling  with 
them,  the  mail  stage,  full  of  passengers,  and  the  two  team- 
sters passed  the  spot,  without  hearing  the  slightest  noise, 
though  the  night  was  very  still.  All  was  quiet  as  the 
grave. 

Major  Goodrich  had  no  recollection  of  what  happen- 
ed to  him  after  his  final  struggle  with  the  robbers,  till  he 
found  himself  at  the  bridge,  shot  through  the  hand,  badly 
wounded  in  the  side,  his  head  aching  with  blows  and 
his  hip  sprained.  It  is  a  little  remarkable,  that  he  should 
have  passed  several  houses  where  the  people  were  up  and 
lights  burning,  on  his  way  from  the  scene  of  the  robbery 
to  the  bridge,  and  that  in  a  state  of  insensibility.  Perhaps 
the  reason  may  be  this :  it  was  necessary  to  get  rid  of  the 
above  mentioned  pocket  pistol,  and  it  was  not  safe  to  throw 
it  where  it  might  be  found  again.  He  probably  thought  it 
best  to  hide  it  in  the  river,  and  therefore  returned  to  the 
bridge. 

It  appears  by  other  and  better  testimony  than  Good- 
rich's  oath,  that  a  little  before  ten  he  arrived  at  Mr. 
Ebenezer  Pearson's  house  again.  Mr.  Pearson,  jr.,  went 
out  of  the  door  and  met  this  much  abused  personage,  who 
laid  hands  on  him,  exclaiming,  "  You  are  the  d d  rob- 
ber." Mr.  Pearson,  senior,  then  came  forth,  and  Goodrich 
was  taken  into  the  house,  apparently  delirious,  and  raving 
about  robbers  and  his  gold  watch.  Here  he  received 
every  possible  attention,  and  a  physician  was  immediately 
sent  for. 

When  the  physician  (Dr.  Moses  Carter)  arrived,  Good- 
rich was  walking  about  the  room  into  which  he  had  been 
introduced,  talking  incoherently.  He  expressed  a  desire 
to  go  to  the  place  where  he  had  been  robbed  to  look  for 
his  watch,  and  Mr.  Eiias  Jackman  and  some  others  went 
with  him.  He  walked  sturdily  along  till  he  was  near  the 
place,  when  he  became  faint,  and  the  others  carried  him  a 
little  farther  and  then  set  him  down.  He  desired  them  to 
take  his  pistol  and  shoot  him,  rather  than  drag  him  along 


196  THE     MTTSEtTK. 

so.  They  carried  him  back  to  the  house,  in  what  they 
thought  an  expiring  condition,  but  Dr.  Carter,  on  feeling 
his  pulse,  said  it  was  as  healthy  as  that  of  any  one  present, 
and  that  it  was  no  dying  case.  The  people  were  never- 
theless much  agitated,  for  Goodrich  complained  of  severe 
bruises  on  the  back  of  his  head  and  on  his  body.  The 
doctor  dressed  his  hand  and  then  examined  him  strictly, 
but  found  no  external  mark  of  injury  except  the  aforesaid 
wound  in  the  hand,  and  a  very  slight  scratch  in  the  arm. 
He  then  said  that  he  had  fired  his  pistol  and  nearly  knock- 
ed down  one  of  the  robbers,  that  some  one  had  searched 
his  bosom  and  taken  his  watch  from  his  fob. 

In  the  meanwhile,  as  the  unfortunate  major  continued 
anxious  about  his  watch,  some  of  the  neighbors  went  to  the 
field  of  battle  at  his  request,  for  he  had  by  this  time  some- 
what recovered.  They  found  his  whip  and  pistol  in  the 
road,  and  in  the  field  his  pocket  book,  valisse,  portmanteau, 
clothes,  papers,  hat,  and  some  money.  The  hat  was  beat 
in,  and  there  was  blood  on  it.  His  watch  they  found  laid 
carefully  under  a  board,  with  the  face  upwards  and  going. 

Those  who  went  the  next  morning  to  the  spot  where  the 
robbery  was  alleged  to  have  been  committed,  found  in 
the  field  a  screw  belonging  to  the  pistol  Goodrich  had  left 
in  the  road.  Query,  if  the  pistol  left  his  hand  in  the  first 
scuffle,  how  came  the  screw  in  the  spot  where  the  second 
took  place  ?  Moreover,  there  was  blood  on  the  head  of 
the  screw  corresponding  with  more  on  the  stock  of  the 
pistol.  On  the  very  spot  where  the  major  said  he  first 
lost  his  senses,  a  horse  had  staled.  It  may  be  doubted  if 
the  beast  would  have  performed  this  operation  while  a 
person  was  robbed  on  his  back  or  near  him. 

This  morning  Dr.  Israel  Balch  was  summoned  to  con- 
sult with  Dr.  Carter.  He  found  Goodrich  lying  in  bed 
raving.  While  Dr.  Carter  was  describing  the  case,  the 
patient  watched  him  closely,  in  silence,  but  when  he  caught 
Dr.  Balch's  eye,  he  appeared  confused  and  looked  in  a 
different  direction.  This  led  Dr.  Balch  to  believe  his  de- 
lirium was  mere  pretence.  No  bruises  or  wounds,  besides 
those  above  mentioned,  could  be  discovered.  Presently 
the  patient  called  for  Jerry  Balch,  and  the  last  named  phy- 
sician answered  that  he  was  Jerry  Balch.  Goodrich  said 


THE    MTTSEUM.  197 

u  No,  you  are  not  Jerry  Balch."  Being  persuaded  that 
this  incoherence  was  mere  sham,  Dr.  Balch  adopted  a 
stratagem  to  come  at  the  truth.  He  went  down  stairs, 
took  off  his  boots,  stole  softly  up  again,  and  peeped  in  at 
the  door.  He  heard  the  bed  clothes  move,  and  saw  Good- 
rich raise  himself  up  and  look  cautiously  around.  Before 
this,  he  had  pretended  to  be  in  such  pain  that  it  took  three 
or  four  persons  to  turn  him  in  his  bed.  Dr.  Balch  saw  him 
adjust  his  hair,  and  very  composedly  spit  on  the  floor. 

That  afternoon  he  was  removed  to  Newburyport,  and 
the  next  day  he  again  pretended  delirium.  He  soon  be- 
came rational,  and  never  after  showed  any  appearance  of 
insanity. 

On  examining  the  clothes  he  wore  at  the  time  of  the 
sworn  robbery,  it  was  found  that  a  ball  had  entered  the 
inside  of  the  cuff  of  the  surtout,  indicating  that  the  weapon 
from  which  it  came  had  been  directed  perpendicularly  to 
the  palm  of  the  hand,  and  must  have  been  fired  very  nigh, 
for  the  garment  was  burnt  and  blackened.  After  the  at- 
tending physician  told  him  he  might  go  abroad  safely, 
Goodrich  kept  his  chamber  a  week. 

Goodrich  went  from  Newburyport  to  Danvers.  The 
belief  had  now  become  prevalent,  that  his  account  of  the 
robbery  was  a  fiction,  and  as  he  took  no  measures  to  dis- 
cover the  robbers,  the  opinion  gained  ground.  Some  of 
his  friends  told  him  that  his  reputation  was  suffering,  and 
he  was  thereby  induced  to  take  more  active  measures. 
Better  authority  being  now  beyond  our  reach,  we  must 
take  the  major's  word  for  what  followed. 

Some  one  told  him  that  a  certain  Reuben  Taber  was  a 
person  likely  to  have  been  concerned  in  the  robbery,  and 
upon  mature  deliberation,  he  recollected  that  a  person  an- 
swering to  Taber's  description,  had  taken  his  horse's  bridle 
when  he  stopped  at  Exeter.  He  also  learned  that  Taber 
frequented  certain  cellars  about  the  market  in  Boston.  He 
repaired  to  Boston,  found  Taber,  identified  him  by  name, 
and  asked  him  to  step  into  Bowden's  tavern,  in  order  to 
converse,  but  Taber  choose  rather  to  go  into  the  back- 
yard. After  some  conversation,  Taber  said  he  had  formed 
an  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the  robbery,  that  it  would  en- 
danger his  life  to  point  out  the  robbers,  but  for  three  hun- 

17* 


198  THR    MUSEUM. 

dred  dollars  he  would  disclose  all  he  knew.  He  made  an 
appointment  with  Taber,  to  meet  a  second  time,  but  Taber 
did  not  keep  it.  Goodrich,  therefore,  consulted  with  Mr. 
William  Jones  and  other  friends,  who  advised  him  to  dis- 
guise himself,  in  order  to  meet  Taber.  He  did  so. 

Mr.  Jones,  as  he  afterwards  testified,  accompanied 
Goodrich  to  the  market,  where  the  Major  left  him  for 
three  quarters  of  an  hour.  Goodrich  found  his  man  in 
Ann  street,  who  agreed  to  give  him  the  names  of  the  rob- 
bers for  four  hundred  dollars,  payable  in  case  his  informa- 
tion should  prove  correct.  Goodrich  accepted  the  terms, 
and  Taber  gave  him  the  names  of  Laban  and  Levi  Ken- 
niston  of  Ipswich,  who,  he  said,  must  have  some  of  the 
money,  if  they  had  not  already  spent  it.  During  the  time 
spent  as  thus  alleged,  Mr.  Jones  was  watching  Goodrich, 
and  actually  saw  him  conversing  with  a  person  whom  he 
believed  to  be  Taber.  When  Taber  was  afterwards  pro- 
duced before  a  court,  Mr.  Jones  swore  he  believed  him  to 
be  the  same  man. 

Major  Goodrich  then  went  to  Danvers  and  communi- 
cated these  particulars  to  a  Mr.  Page,  who  consented  to 
assist  him  in  finding  and  apprehending  the  Kennistons. 
They  wrere  accordingly  apprehended  and  committed  for 
trial.  The  Major's  suspicions  next  fell  upon  Mr.  Ebenezer 
Pearson,  senior,  the  good  Samaritan,  who  had  so  kindly 
received  and  sheltered  him  on  the  night  of  the  pretended 
robbery.  He  caused  this  gentleman  to  be  arrested,  and 
hired  a  quack  to  go  to  his  residence  with  a  divining  rod,  to 
search  for  gold  and  silver.  It  seems  he  had  more  faith 
than  is  common  in  this  our  Israel,  as  he  believed  there  was 
virtue  in  a  forked  branch  of  hazel  to  discover  what  never, 
probably,  was  lost.  Nothing  was  found,  and  Mr.  Pearson 
was  discharged  without  a  trial.  Goodrich  seems  to  have 
been,  for  a  while,  ashamed  of  this  conduct,  for  he  offered 
to  make  every  atonement  in  his  power  for  the  affront  to 
Mr.  Pearson.  This  interval  of  good  feeling  did  not  last 
long.  He  came  again  with  a  sheriff,  and  searched  from 
garret  to  cellar.  While  the  inquest  was  going  on,  Good- 
rich was  seen  going  to  the  privy,  and  on  his  return  pro- 
posed and  urged  that  that  building  should  be  searched. 
The  search  took  place,  and  some  papers  were  found  which 


THE    MUSEUM.  199 

Goodrich  swore  were  his.  Some  pieces  of  money  were 
also  discovered  in  such  circumstances  as  almost  amounted 
to  proof  positive  that  Goodrich  dropped  them  himself. 

The  Major  also  entertained  suspicions  of  Mr.  Joseph 
Jackman,  a  gentleman  who  lived  near  Essex  bridge,  who 
had  gone  to  New  York  immediately  after  the  robbery. 
Him  he  followed  and  arrested,  and  found,  as  he  afterwards 
swore,  several  wrappers  of  money  in  his  possession,  which 
he  identified  as  his  own.  He  wrote  from  New  York  that 
Mr.  Jackman  made  a  strenuous  resistance,  than  which  no- 
thing could  be  more  false. 

The  Kennistons  were  put  to  the  bar  with  Ruben  Taber, 
on  an  indictment  for  robbery.  Taber  moved  for  a  sepa- 
rate trial,  which  was  granted. 

From  the  evidence  it  appeared,  in  favor  of  Goodrich, 
that  the  money  of  which  he  said  he  was  robbed  was  his 
own,  and  that  what  he  saved  belonged  to  other  persons. 
Several  witnesses  testified  to  his  general  good  character. 
It  was  proved  that  the  Kennistons  were  in  Newburyport 
the  evening  of  the  robbery,  and  they  gave  no  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  they  passed  the  time  from  seven  o'clock 
to  ten.  Different  witnesses  swore  to  the  following  facts. 
A  Mr.  Leavitt,  who  assisted  to  search  their  house,  swore 
that  he  went  into  a  certain  apartment  thereof,  before  any 
other  one  of  the  party,  opened  a  drawer,  and  found  in  it  a 
ten  dollar  bill  of  the  Boston  bank,  carefully  rolled  up.  Sus- 
pecting it  to  be  a  counterfeit,  he  threw  it  back  and  did  not 
mention  the  circumstance  to  any  one.  Shortly  after  an- 
other of  the  assistants,  named  Upton,  went  to  the  drawer, 
found  a  ten  dollar  bill,  and  carried  it  away.  On  seeing  it, 
Goodrich  claimed  it  as  his  own,  knowing  it,  as  he  said,  by 
certain  words  written  on  the  back.  Upton  also  took  a 
pair  of  pantaloons  from  a  bed  post  on  which  they  were 
hanging,  and  found  in  the  pocket  a  pocket-book  containing 
gold.  Now,  as  the  Kennistons  were  very  poor,  shiftless 
men,  it  was  not  probable  they  could  have  obtained  gold 
honestly.  Again,  Upton,  in  searching  the  cellar,  found 
several  pieces  of  gold. 

It  seems,  also,  ^that  when  Levi  Kenniston  was  arrested, 
he  "  appeared  agitated  and  perspired  profusely,  though  the 
weather  was  cold,  looking  guilty,  and  frequently  changing 


200  THE    MTTSETTM. 

countenance  when  urged  by  those  around  him  to  confess 
what  he  knew  of  the  robbery." 

On  the  other  hand,  it  appeared  that  the  whole  story 
about  Taber  was  a  sheer  falsehood,  for  the  man  was  on  the 
limits  of  the  Boston  jail  at  the  time  of  the  robbery,  and 
long  after.  An  alibi  was  also  proved  in  the  case  of  Jack- 
man.  It  was  shown  that  the  Kennistons  had  no  means 
of  knowing  that  a  man  was  to  pass  at  the  time  of  the  rob- 
bery with  money.  At  the  moment  Goodrich  was  exhibit- 
ing his  pistol  in  Exeter  the  Kennistons  were  in  Newbury- 
port,  where  they  remained  the  next  day,  without  fear  or 
alarm.  It  appeared  that  they  lived  together  in  the  same 
house  with  their  sister,  and  their  father  lived  in  an- 
other part  of  the  same  house.  When  the  house  was 
searched,  gold  was  found  in  two  places  where  Goodrich 
had  previously  been,  where  he  might  have  put  it.  As  to 
the  bill,  the  sheriff  and  Upton  both  saw  writing  on  the  back 
of  it  before  Goodrich  saw  it.  It  was  proved  that  when 
the  sheriff  first  saw  the  bill  he  left  it  where  he  found  it,  and 
that  Goodrich  was  alone  in  the  room  before  it  was  finally 
taken  away.  After  this,  he  recognized  ihe  writing  on  it  as 
his  own.  Thus  he  had  an  opportunity  to  take  away  the 
bill  first  seen  and  substitute  another.  From  the  robbery 
to  the  time  of  their  arrest,  an  interval  of  six  weeks,  the  pri- 
soners exercised  their  usual  employment,  and  were  not 
seen  or  known  to  have  any  money.  Moreover,  it  is  a  lit- 
tle suspicious  that  in  each  of  his  several  searches  Goodrich 
identified  every  article  found,  every  scrap  of  paper  as  his 
own.  One  of  the  witnesses  said  that  the  pistol  found  in 
the  road  appeared  not  to  have  been  fired  at  all,  and  he  did 
not  account  for  the  smaller  one  he  loaded  at  Exeter. 

The  jury  unanimously  found  the  prisoners  not  guilty, 
and  they  were  discharged. 

We  must  now  go  back  to  Mr.  Pearson.  His  charactei 
\vas  so  well  established  that  his  arrest  produced  a  strong 
excitement.  When  he  was  discharged,  he  was  drawn  in 
a  wheel  carriage  to  his  house  by  the  populace  in  triumph. 
He  brought  an  action  against  Goodrich  for  defamation,  re- 
covered two  thousand  dollars  damages,  and  the  Major  was 
committed  to  jail.  It  took  the  jury  but  five  minutes  to 
agree  upon  a  verdict. 


THE    MUSEUM.  201 

What  was  Good  rich's  motive  for  inventing  his  tale  of 
robbery  we  are  unable  even  to  guess.  Perhaps  he  owed 
money  in  Boston,  was  unable  to  pay,  and  was  willing  to 
adduce  a  plausible  apology.  Many  inclined  to  this  belief. 
Perhaps  his  conduct  was  the  effect  of  a  strong  desire  of 
distinction.  Other  men  have  been  known  to  prefer  infamy 
to  obscurity.  Besides  it  is  probable  he  did  not  foresee  the 
consequences  of  his  ill  contrived  deception.  He  might  not 
at  first  have  thought  he  should  be  obliged  to  prosecute  any 
one,  or  seal  his  falsehood  with  perjury.  He  manifested  no 
zeal  in  the  pursuit,  but  appears  to  have  taken  every  step 
at  the  instigation  of  others. 

A  tragedy  resulted  from  the  farce  commonly  called  the 
Goodrich  robbery.  There  lived  in  Salisbury  an  old  man 
named  Colburn  or  Colby,  who  had  been  a  soldier  of  the 
revolution.  Some  time  before  the  events  we  have  recorded 
took  place,  he  made  affidavit  of  his  military  services  in  order 
to  obtain  a  pension.  He  unwittingly  foreswore  himself, 
saying  he  had  served  in  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-five, 
whereas  the  fact  was  he  had  been  a  soldier  in  seventeen 
hundred  and  seventy-six.  This  was  excusable,  for  his 
memory,  as  well  as  his  other  faculties,  were  much  impaired 
by  age.  Yet,  when  he  discovered  his  mistake  it  bore 
heavily  on  his  mind  :  he  believed  himself  guilty  of  perjury, 
and  liable  to  suffer  its  penalties.  He  frequently  spoke  on 
the  subject,  and  several  thoughtless  young  persons  in  the 
neighborhood  made  sport  of  and  increased  his  apprehen- 
sions. 

After  the  trial  of  the  Kennistons  the  people  erected  a 
gibbet  and  hanged  Goodrich  in  effigy  near  the  house  where 
Colby  lived.  The  gallows  stood  for  a  long  time,  to  the 
great  terror  of  the  old  man,  who  imagined  it  was  intended 
for  himself  in  case  he  should  be  convicted  of  perjury.  He 
imagined  every  stranger  he  saw  was  an  officer  .come  to 
arrest  him.  Those  about  him  amused  themselves  by  con- 
firming his  fears,  till  the  old  soldier,  driven  frantic  by  the 
fear  of  infamy,  actually  hanged  himself. 


202  THE    MUSEUM 


AFRICAN    BARBARITY, 

CJ   MJ!(;!-''.    >,j;v   iif~,  ,v;jiT   o«    •"•'/{(;(?{'    iB'.v 

Or  the  enormous  barbarities  continually  committed  by 
uneducated  and  uncivilized  savages,  the  following  dreadful 
and  extraordinary  sketch  will  exhibit  a  fearful  example. 
A  modern  traveller  says,  speaking  of  a  periodical  custom 
of  the  Ashantee  nation  on  the  Gold  coast  of  Africa : 

I  was  assured  by  several,  that  the  custom*  for  Sai  Qua- 
mina  was  repeated  weekly  for  three  months,  and  that  two 
hundred  slaves  were  sacrificed,  and  twenty-five  barrels 
of  powder  fired  each  time.  But  the  custom  for  the  king's 
mother,  the  regent  of  the  kingdom,  during  the  invasion  of 
Fantee,  is  most  celebrated.  The  king  himself  devoted 
three  thousand  victims,  (upwards  of  two  thousand  of  whom 
were  Pantee  prisoners,)  and  twenty-five  barrels  of  powder. 
The  villages  of  Dwabin,  Kokofoo,  Becqua,  Soota.  and 
Marmpong,  furnished  one  hundred  victims  and  twenty 
barrels  of  powder  each,  and  most  of  the  smaller  towns  ten 
victims,  and  two  barrels  of  powder  each. 

Hence  then  it  appears,  that  nearly  four  thousand  victims 
were  sacrificed  at  the  death  of  one  person  !  And  when  it 
is  considered  that  many  hundreds  are  also  immolated  on 
the  Yam  and  Adai  customs,  as  well  as  on  the  death  of  any 
person  of  rank,  how  many  thousands  may  we  suppose  to 
be  annually  sacrificed  to  these  horrible  superstitions. 

The  following  account  of  the  Adai  custom  is  given  by 
Mr.  Hutchinson,  the  British  resident  at  Coomassie,  for 
some  months  after  the  departure  of  Mr.  Bowdich. 

When  any  public  execution  or  sacrifice  is  to  take  place, 
the  ivory  horns  of  the  king  proclaim  at  the  palace  door, 
"Wow  !  wow  !  wow  !"  "Death  !  death  !  death  !"  and  as 
they  cut  off  their  heads  the  bands  play  a  peculiar  strain 
till  the  operation  is  finished. 

The  greatest  human  sacrifice  that  has  been  made  during 
my  residence  in  Coomassie,  took  place  on  the  eve  of  the 
Adai  custom,  early  in  January.  I  had  a  mysterious  inti- 
mation two  days  before,  from  a  quarter  not  to  be  named 


*  Periods  set  apart  for  murder. 


THE    MUSEUM.  203 

My  servants  being  ordered  out  of  the  way,  I  was  thus  ad- 
dressed :  "  Christain,  take  care  and  watch  over  your 
family  ;  the  angel  of  death  has  drawn  his  sword,  and  will 
strike  on  the  neck  of  many  Ashantees.  When  the  drum 
is  struck  on  Adai  eve,  it  will  be  the  death  signal  of  many. 
Shun  the  king  if  you  can,  but  fear  not."  When  the  time 
came  to  strike  the  drum,  I  was  sitting,  thinking  on  the  hor- 
rors of  the  approaching  night,  and  was  rather  startled  at  a 
summons  to  attend  the  king.  This  is  the  manner  he  always 
takes  to  cut  off  any  captain  or  person  of  rank :  if  they  are 
thought  desperate  characters  they  are  thrown  down,  and 
a  knife  is  thurst  into  the  mouth  to  keep  them  from  swear- 
ing the  death  of  any  other. 

This  sacrifice  was  in  consequence  of  the  king  imagining, 
that  if  he  washed  the  bones  of  his  mother  or  sisters,  who 
died  while  he  was  on  the  throne,  it  would  propitiate  the 
fetish  and  make  the  war  successful.  Their  bones  were, 
therefore,  taken  from  their  coffins,  and  bathed  in  rum  and 
water  with  great  ceremony ;  after  being  wiped  with  silks, 
they  were  rolled  in  gold  dust,  and  wrapped  in  strings  of 
rock  gold,  aggry  beads,  and  other  things  of  the  most  costly 
nature.  Those  who  had  done  any  thing  to  displease  the 
king  were  then  sent  for  in  succession,  and  immolated  as 
they  entered,  that  their  blood  might  water  their  graves. 
The  whole  of  the  night  the  king's  executioners  traversed 
the  streets,  and  dragged  all  they  met  with  to  the  palace, 
where  they  were  put  in  irons.  Next  morning  being  Adai 
custom,  every  place  was  silent  and  forlorn,  and  his  majesty 
proceeded  to  the  morning  sacrifice  of  sheep,  &c.  attended 
only  by  his  confidents,  and  the  members  of  his  own  family. 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark  the  human  sacrifices  were  re- 
newed. The  victims,  with  their  hands  tied  behind  them, 
and  in  chains,  proceed :  the  bones  of  the  deceased  were 
removed  to  the  sacred  tomb  of  Bantame.  The  procession 
returned  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  king  took 
his  seat  in  the  market  place  with  his  small  band,  and 
"  Death  !  death  !  death  !"  was  echoed  by  his  horns.  He 
sat  with  a  silver  goblet  of  palm  wine  in  his  hand,  and  when 
they  cut  off  any  head,  imitated  a  dancing  motion  in  his 
chair,  and  a  little  before  dark  he  finished  his  terrors  for 
that  day.  I  dared  not  send  out  my  people,  lest  they  should 


204  THE    MUSEUM. 

be  murdered.     The  sacrifice  was  continued  till  the  next 
Adai  custom,  seventeen  days ! 

A  most  inhuman  spectacle  presented  itself  on  another 
occasion.  It  was  a  man  whom  they  tormented  previous 
to  sacrifice.  His  hands  were  pinioned  behind  him,  a  knife 
was  passed  through  his  cheeks,  to  which  his  lips  were 
noosed  like  a  figure  of  eight ;  one  ear  was  cut  off  and  car- 
ried before  him,  the  other  remaining  hung  to  his  head  by 
a  small  bit  of  skin  ;  there  were  several  gashes  in  his  back, 
and  a  knife  was  thrust  under  each  shoulder  blade  ;  he  was 
drawn  by  a  cord  passed  through  his  nose,  by  men  dis- 
figured by  immense  caps  of  shaggy  black  skins  ;  drums 
beating  before  them  as  they  marched. 


EXECUTION    OF    AN    INNOCENT    MAN. 

JOHN  C.  HAMILTON  was  executed  in  Kentucky  in  1817, 
for  the  murder  of  Dr.  Sanderson,  of  Natchez,  Mississippi, 
and  a  man  was  executed  in  Mobile,  who  confessed  himself 
the  murderer  of  Sanderson,  and  declared  that  Hamilton 
was  innocent.  The  following  are  the  particulars  of  this 
melancholy  affair,  the  perusal  of  which  are  sufficient  to 
wring  tears  of  anguish  from  the  heart  of  apathy  itself. 

"  The  annals  of  judicial  proceedings  rarely  afford  a  re- 
port of  a  trial  and  execution  of  a  more  extraordinary  and 
distressing  character  than  this,  and  it  should  be  universally 
circulated  that  judges  and  jurors  may  be  guarded  against 
condemning  supposed  culprits  on  circumstantial  evidence. 
Young  Hamilton,  through  life,  supported  an  unblemished 
character,  and  obtained  the  love,  esteem,  and  admiration 
of  all  who  had  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance.  As  is 
common  with  the  young  gentlemen  of  Kentucky,  he  was  in 
the  practice  of  spending  the  winter  season  in  the  more  genial 
climate  of  the  Mississippi.  On  his  return  from  a  winter 
residence  in  that  quarter,  he  accidentally  fell  in  company 
with  Dr.  Sanderson,  who  being  in  ill  health  was  journey- 
ing to  the  celebrated  watering  place  at  Harrodsburg  Spa, 
with  hopes  of  recovering  his  lost  health ;  as  he  was  anx- 
ious to  make  something  out  of  his  pilgrimage,  he  took  with 


THE    MUSEUM.  205 

him  a  large  sum  of  money,  with  which  he  contemplated 
purchasing  negroes  on  speculation.  On  his  way  up  the 
country,  his  infirmities  increased,  and  as  he  was  apprehen- 
sive he  might  expire  on  the  road,  he  committed  to  the 
charge  of  Hamilton  his  treasure,  having  in  his  short  ac- 
quaintance discovered  that  he  was  worthy  of  unlimited 
confidence.  In  a  few  days,  however,  his  indisposition  aba- 
ted, when  he  pursued  his  journey,  and  finally  arrived  in 
safety  at  the  residence  of  Hamilton,  in  Barren  County, 
Kentucky,  where  he  remained  during  the  summer,  and 
received  from  his  young  friend  every  mark  of  courtesy, 
attention,  and  hospitality.  In  the  month  of  October,  Dr. 
Sanderson  made  arrangements  to  depart,  and  on  taking 
leave  of  his  hospitable  host,  young  Hamilton  accompanied 
him  several  miles  on  the  road,  and  then  took  an  affection- 
ate farewell.  Ten  or  twelve  days  after,  as  some  hunters 
were  rambling  through  the  forest,  they  discovered  the 
body  of  Dr.  Sanderson  in  a  state  of  corruption,  shot  in 
several  places,  and  mangled  in  the  most  shocking  manner. 
As  Hamilton  was  last  seen  with  him,  and  as  it  was  known 
that  he  had,  from  time  to  time,  made  use  of  sums  of  money 
originally  the  property  of  Sanderson,  suspicion  fell  on  his 
head,  and  he  was  arrested,  tried,  and  executed. 

Previous  to  his  arrest,  he  was  advised  to  leave  the  coun- 
try to  avoid  danger ;  but  as  ae  was  conscious  of  his  inno- 
cence, he  disdained  to  take  a  step  which  would  cast  a  cloud 
of  obloquy  and  disgrace  upon  his  character,  and  resolutely 
remained  home.  As  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  were 
divided  in  their  opinions  as  to  his  guilt,  the  affair  gradually 
died  away ;  but  Hamilton,  being  anxious~that  a  trial  should 
take  place,  firmly  believing  that  in  such  an  event  his  repu- 
tation would  remain  unspotted,  he  solicited  at  the  hands 
of  justice  a  trial,  which,  to  his  astonishment  and  sorrow, 
closed  with  his  condemnation.  The  only  evidence  against 
him  was  circumstantial,  viz.  that  near  the  body  of  Sanderson 
were  found  a  bloody  pair  of  pantaloons  and  a  pistol,  both 
bearing  the  name  of  Hamilton.  Through  the  whole  of 
the  trial  he  manifested  that  fortitude  and  determined  cool- 
ness characteristic  of  innocence,  and  expired  with  a  full 
conviction  that  the  real  murderer  would  ultimately  be  dis- 
covered. When  on  the  scaffold,  he  took  a  manly  leave  of 

18 


206  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  world,  expressed  not  the  least  regret  for  his  fate,  but 
lamented  that  his  misfortunes  should  cloud  the  prospects 
of  his  family,  and  shed  an  indelible  disgrace  on  his  memory. 
Thus  through  the  weakness  of  the  law,  was  an  interesting 
young  man  and  a  worthy  citizen,  hurried  from  the  world, 
and  doomed  to  expiate  on  the  gallows  that  crime  commit 
ted  by  the  hands  of  a  villain  and  assassin. 


THE    GREEK    MARTYR. 

THE  following  event  occurred  at  Smyrna,  April,  1819. 
Athanasius,  a  Greek  Christian,  twenty-four  years  of  age, 
was  the  son  of  a  boatman,  who  carried  on  a  small  trade  in 
the  Archipelago.  The  gains  of  the  father  being  unable  to 
support  the  son,  and  the  business  not  sufficiently  great  to 
require  his  assistance,  he  was  obliged  to  look  out  for  em- 
ployment in  some  other  way.  He  engaged  in  the  service 
of  a  Turk,  who,  being  pleased  with  his  conduct,  considered 
him  as  a  proper  object  for  exercising  his  influence  in  con- 
verting him  to  the  Mahometan  faith.  After  holding  out 
great  offers,  he  ultimately  prevailed  on  him  to  renounce 
Christianity,  in  presence  of  the  Meccamay,  who  is  the 
Turkish  Judge  and  Bishop.  He  continued  in  the  service 
for  about  a  year  after,  when  he  quitted  it,  and  having  ex- 
perienced severe  reproofs  of  conscience  for  his  apostacy, 
he  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Mount  Achas,  where  there  are 
many  converts,  from  which  he  returned  some  months 
after. 

On  his  arrival  at  Smyrna,  in  the  costume  of  a  Greek 
monk,  he  proceeded  instantly  to  the  Meccamay,  expressed 
his  repentance  at  renouncing  the  Christian  faith,  and  his 
resolution  to  abjure  the  tenets  of  the  Mahometan.  On  this 
he  was  confined  in  a  dungeon,  and  endured  the  torture 
with  the  greatest  fortitude,  persisting  in  his  resolution  to 
die  a  Christian.  A  day  was  then  appointed  for  his  execu- 
tion, in  the  most  public  part  of  Smyrna,  and  opposite  one 
of  the  principal  mosques  ;  and  he  was  led  to  the  scaffold 
bound,  attended  by  the  Turkish  guards.  Here  he  was 
offered  his  life,  nay,  houses,  money,  in  short,  riches,  if  he 


THE    SAMPI1IKE    GATHERER. 
See  page  208,  rul.  It. 


THE    MUSEUM.  207 

would  still  continue  in   the  Mahometan   creed ;   but  no 
temptation  could  induce  Athanasius  again  to  apostatize. 

On  this  occasion  a  Turkish  blacksmith  was  employed  to 
decapitate  him.  As  a  last  attempt,  however,  to  effect,  if 
practicable,  a  change  of  opinion,  the  executioner  was  di- 
rected to  cut  part  of  the  skin  of  his  neck,  that  he  might 
feel  the  edge  of  the  sword.  Even  this,  however,  failed  of 
success.  He  was  then  ordered  to  kneel  on  the  ground, 
when  he  declared,  with  a  calm  and  resigned  countenance, 
that  "  he  was  born  with  Jesus,  and  would  die  with  Jesus." 
At  one  blow  the  head  was  struck  off.  The  guards  then 
instantly  threw  buckets  of  water  on  the  neck  and  head  of 
the  corpse,  to  prevent  the  multitude  of  surrounding  Greek 
spectators  from  dipping  their  handkerchiefs  in  his  blood,  to 
keep  as  a  memorial  of  an  event  so  remarkable.  The  body 
was  publicly  exposed  for  three  days,  the  head  was  placed 
between  the  legs,  on  the  anus,  and  afterwards  given  up  to 
the  Greeks,  by  whom  it  was  decently  interred,  in  the 
principal  church-yard  of  Smyrna.  This  is  the  third  instance 
of  the  kind  which  has  occurred  at  Smyrna  during  the  last 
twenty  years. 


THE    PARRICIDE    PUNISHED. 

THE  following  very  singular  adventure  is  related  as  a 
fact  in  a  French  work,  entitled  La  Nouvelle  Bibliothcque 
de  Societe ;  and  is  said  to  have  happened  in  one  of  the 
provinces  of  France.  It  is  related  in  a  letter  to  a  friend. 
The  adventure  which  I  am  going  to  relate  to  you,  my  dear 
friend,  is  of  so  strange  and  dreadful  a  nature,  that  you  are 
the  only  person  to  whom  I  must  ever  disclose  the  secret. 

The  nuptials  of  Mademoiselle  de  Vildac  were  celebrated 
yesterday ;  at  which,  as  a  neighbor,  custom  and  good  man- 
ners required  my  attendance.  You  are  acquainted  with 
M.  de  Vildac :  he  has  a  countenance  which  never  pleased 
me ;  his  eyes  have  often  a  wild  and  suspicious  glare,  a 
something  which  has  always  given  me  disagreeable  sensa- 
tions for  which  I  could  in  no  way  account.  I  could  not 
help  observing  yesterday,  that,  in  the  midst  of  joy  and  re- 


208  THE    MUSEUM. 

velry,  he  partook  not  of  pleasure  :  far  from  being  penetrated 
with  the  happiness  of  his  new  son  and  daughter,  the  delight 
of  others  seemed  to  him  a  secret  torment. 

The  feast  was  held  at  his  ancient  castle  ;  and,  when  the 
hour  of  rest  arrived,  I  was  conducted  to  a  chamber  imme- 
diately under  the  Old  Tower  at  the  north  end.  I  had  just 
fallen  into  my  first  sleep,  when  1  was  awakened  and  alarm- 
ed by  a  heavy  kind  of  noise  over  head.  I  listened,  and 
heard  very  distinctly  the  footsteps  of  some  one  slowly  de- 
scending, and  dragging  chains  that  clanked  upon  the  stairs, 
the  noise  approached,  and  presently  the  chamber  door  was 
opened,  the  clanking  of  the  chains  redoubled,  and  he  who 
bore  them  went  towards  the  chimney.  There  were  a  few 
embers  half  extinguished  ;  these  he  scraped  together,  and 
said,  in  a  sepulchral  voice  : — "  Alas  !  how  long  it  is  since  I 
have  seen  a  fire  !"  I  own,  my  friend,  I  was  terrified  :  I 
seized  my  sword,  looked  between  my  curtains,  and  saw  by 
the  glimmering  of  the  embers,  a  withered  old  man  half 
naked,  with  a  bald  head,  and  a  white  beard.  He  put  his 
trembling  hands  to  the  wood,  which  began  to  blaze,  and 
soon  afterwards  turned  towards  the  door  by  which  he  en- 
tered, fixed  his  eyes  with  horror  upon  the  floor,  as  if  he  be- 
held something  most  dreadful,  and  exclaimed  with  agony, 
"  My  God  !  my  God  !" 

My  emotion  caused  my  curtains  to  make  a  noise,  and  he 
turned  affrighted.  "  Who  is  there  ?"  said  he.  "  Is  there 
any  one  in  that  bed  ?" — "  Yes,"  I  replied  ;  "  and  who  are 
you  ?' — Contending  passions  would  not  for  awhile  suffer 
him  to  speak,  at  last  he  answered,  "  I  am  the  most  mis- 
erable of  men.  This,  perhaps,  is  more  than  I  ought  to 
say  ;  but  it  is  so  long,  so  many  years,  since  I  have  seen  or 
spoken  to  a  human  being,  that  I  cannot  resist.  Fear  no- 
thing ;  come  towards  the  fire ;  listen  to  my  sorrows  and 
for  a  moment  soften  my  sufferings !" 

My  fear  gave  place  to  pity  ;  I  sat  down  by  him.  My 
condescension  and  my  feelings  moved  him  ;  he  took  my 
hand,  bathed  it  with  his  tears,  and  said — Generous  man  ! 
let  me  desire  you  first  to  satisfy  my  curiosity.  Tell  me 
why  you  lodge  in  this  chamber,  where  no  man  has  lodged 
before  for  so  many  years ;  and  what  mean  the  rejoicings  I 


THE    MUSEUM.  209 

have  heard  ?  what  extraordinary  thing  has  happened  to- 
day in  the  castle  ?" 

When  I  had  informed  him  of  the  marriage  of  Vildac's 
daughter,  he  lifted  up  his  hands  to  heaven — "  Has  Vildac 
a  daughter  ?  and  is  she  married  ?  Almighty  God  grant  she 
may  be  happy !  grant  she  may  never  know  guilt !"  He 
paused  for  a  moment. — "Learn  who  I  am,"  said  he. 
"  You  see,  you  speak  to  the  father  of  Vildac  !  the  cruel 
Vildac  ?  Yet  what  right  have  I  to  complain  ?  Should  I — 
should  I  call  man  or  tiger  cruel  ?" — "  What !"  exclaimed  I 
with  astonishment,  "  is  Vildac  your  son  ?  Vildac !  the 
monster  !  shut  you  from  the  sight  of  man  ?  load  you  with 
chains  !  And  lives  there  such  a  wretch  ?" 

"  Behold,"  said  he,  "  the  power,  the  detestable  power  of 
riches.  The  hard  and  pitiless  heart  of  my  unhappy  son  is 
impenetrable  to  every  tender  sentiment :  insensible  to  love 
and  friendship  ;  he  is  also  deaf  to  the  cries  of  nature  ;  and, 
to  enjoy  my  lands,  has  hung  these  eating  irons  on  me. 

"  He  went  one  day  to  visit  a  neighboring  nobleman,  who 
had  lately  lost  his  father :  he  saw  him  encircled  by  vassals, 
and  occupied  in  receiving  their  homage  and  their  rents : 
ihe  sight  made  a  shocking  impression  upon  the  imagination 
of  Vildac,  which  had  long  been  haunted  with  a  strong  de- 
sire to  enjoy  his  future  patrimony.  I  observed  at  his  return 
a  degree  of  thoughtfulness  and  gloom  about  him  that  was 
unusual.  Five  days  afterwards  I  was  seized  during  the 
night,  and  carried  off  naked  by  three  men  masked,  and 
lodged  in  this  tower.  I  know  not  by  what  means  Vildac 
spread  the  report  of  my  death  ;  but  I  guessed,  by  the  toll- 
ing of  the  bells  and  funeral  dirges,  more  solemn  than  for 
inferior  persons,  they  were  performed  for  my  interment. 
The  idea  was  horrid ;  and  I  entreated  most  earnestly  to 
be  permitted  to  speak  for  a  moment  to  my  son,  but  in  vain : 
those  who  brought  me  my  food,  no  doubt,  supposed  me  a 
criminal  condemned  to  perish  in  prison.  It  is  now  twenty 
years  since  I  was  first  confined  here.  I  perceived  this 
morning  that  my  door  was  not  secured,  and  I  waited  till 
night  to  profit  by  the  accident :  yet  I  do  not  wish  to  escape  ; 
but  the  little  liberty  of  a  few  yards  more  is  much  to  a 
prisoner." 

"  No,"  cried  I,  "  you  shall  quit  this  dishonorable  habita- 
18* 


210  THE    MUSEUM. 

tion.  Heaven  has  destined  me  to  be  your  deliverer,  de- 
fender, support,  and  guide.  Every  body  sleeps  ;  now  is 
the  time  ;  let  us  be  gone !" 

"  It  must  not  be !"  said  he,  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"  Solitude  has  changed  my  ideas  and  my  principles.  Hap- 
piness is  but  in  opinion.  Now  that  I  am  inured  to  suffer, 
why  should  I  fly  from  my  fate  ?  What  is  there  for  me  to 
wish  in  this  world  1  The  die  is  thrown,  and  this  tower 
must  be  my  tomb  !" 

"  Surely  you  dream,"  answered  I.  "  Let  us  not  lose 
time  ;  the  night  is  advanced :  we  shall  presently  have  but 
a  moment.  Come." 

"  I  am  affected,"  replied  he  :  "  but  cannot  profit  by  your 
kindness.  Liberty  has  no  charms  for  my  small  remains 
of  life.  Shall  I  dishonor  my  son  ;  or  which  way  has  his 
daughter  given  me  offence,  to  whom  I  was  never  known, 
by  whom  I  was  never  seen?  This  sweet  innocent  sleeps 
happily  in  the  arms  of  her  husband,  and  shall  I  overwhelm 
her  with  infamy  ?  Yet  might  I  but  behold  her  !  might  I  but 
lock  her  in  these  feeble  arms,  and  bedew  her  bosom  with 
my  tears  ! — 'Tis  in  vain  !  It  cannot  be  !  I  never  must  look 
upon  her  !  Adieu  !  day  begins  to  break,  and  we  shall  be 
surprised.  I  will  return  to  my  prison." 

"  No,"  said  I,  stopping  him  ;  "  I  will  not  suffer  it.  Slave- 
ry has  enfeebled  your  soul ;  I  must  inspire  you  with  cou- 
rage. Let  us  begone  ;  we  will  afterwards  examine  whe- 
ther it  be  proper  to  make  the  matter  public.  My  house,  my 
friends,  my  fortune,  are  at  your  service.  No  one  shall 
know  who  you  are ;  and,  since  it  is  necessary,  Vildac's 
crime  shall  be  concealed.  What  do  you  fear  ?" 

"  Nothing !  I  am  all  gratitude  !  Oh,  no  !  it  cannot  be  ! 
Here  I  will  remain  !" 

"Well,  act  as  you  please  ;  but  if  you  refuse  to  fly  with 
me,  I  will  go  immediately  to  the  governor  of  the  province, 
tell  him  who  you  are,  and  return  armed  with  his  autho- 
rity and  his  power,  to  wrest  you  from  the  barbarity  of  an 
inhuman  child." 

"  Beware  what  you  do !  abuse  not  my  confidence. 
Leave  me  to  perish  You  know  me  not.  I  am  a  mon- 
ster !  Day  arid  the  blessed  sun  would  sicken  at  my  sight. 
Infamous  I  am,  and  covered  with  guilt — guilt  most  horri- 


THE    MUSEUM. 


211 


ble  !  Turn  your  eyes  upon  that  wall ;  behold  these  boards 
sprinkled  with  blood,  a  father's  blood  ! — murdered  by  his 
son  ;  by  me  ! — Ha  !  look  !  behold  !  do  you  not  see  him  ! 
He  stretches  forth  his  bleeding  arms !  he  begs  for  pity  ! 
the  vital  stream  flows  out !  he  falls,  he  groans  !  Oh,  hor- 
ror !  madness!  despair!". 

The  miserable  wretch  fell  convulsed  with  terror  on  the 
floor ;  and  when  fear  and  passion  in  part  subsided,  he 
durst  not  turn  his  guilty  eyes  towards  me,  where  I  stood 
transfixed  with  horror.  As  soon  as  he  had  the  power,  he 
approached  the  door : — "  Farewell,"  said  he,  "  be  innocent, 
if  you  would  be  happy  !  The  wretch  who  so  lately  moved 
your  pity,  is  now  become  detestable  to  you  as  well  as  to 
himself:  he  goes  unlamented  to  the  dungeon,  whence  alive 
he  never  shall  return  !" 

I  had  neither  the  power  to  speak  or  move.  The  castle 
was  become  a  place  most  abominable  ;  and  I  departed  in 
the  morning.  I  must  leave  the  neighborhood ;  I  cannot 
bear  the  sight  of  Vildac,  nor  the  remembrance  of  this 
night. 


REMARKABLE    CASE    OF   JOHN    JENNINGS.  WHO  WAS    PUT    TO 
DEATH    ON    PRESUMPTIVE    EVIDENCE. 

A  GENTLEMAN  travelling  to  Hull,  was  stopped  late  in  the 
evening,  about  seven  miles  short  of  it,  by  a  single  highway- 
man, with  a  mask  on,  who  robbed  him  of  a  purse  contain- 
ing twenty  guineas.  The  highwayman  rode  off  a  different 
road,  full  speed,  and  the  gentleman  pursued  his  journey. 
It,  however,  growing  late,  and  he  being  already  much 
affrighted  and  agitated  at  what  had  passed,  he  rode  only 
two  miles  farther,  and  stopped  at  the  Bell  Inn,  kept  by 
Mr.  James  Brunell.  He  went  into  the  kitchen  to  give 
directions  for  his  supper,  where  he  related  to  several  per- 
sons present  his  having  been  robbed  ;  to  which  he  added 
this  peculiar  circumstance,  that  when  he  travelled  he  always 
gave  his  gold  a  particular  mark  ;  that  every  guinea  in  the 
purse  he  was  robbed  of,  was  so  particularly  marked  ;  and 
that,  most  probably,  the  robber,  by  that  means,  would  be 


212  THE    MUSEUM. 

detected.  Supper  being  ready,  he  retired.  He  had  not 
long  finished  his  supper,  before  Mr.  Brunell  came  into  the 
parlor.  After  the  usual  inquiries  of  the  landlord's,  of  hop- 
ing the  supper  and  every  thing  was  of  his  liking,  &c.  &c. 
"  Sir,"  says  he,  "  I  understand  that  you  have  been  robbed, 
not  far  from  hence,  this  evening."  "  I  have,  Sir."  "  And 
that  your  money  was  all  marked."  "It  was."  "A  cir- 
cumstance has  arisen  which  leads  me  to  think  that  I  can 
point  out  the  robber."  "  Indeed  !"  "  Pray,  Sir,  what  time 
in  the  evening  was  it  ?"  "  It  was  just  setting  in  to  be  dark." 
"  The  time  confirms  my  suspicions !"  Mr.  Brunell  then 
informed  the  gentleman  that  he  had  a  waiter,  one  John 
Jennings,  who  had  of  late  been  so  very  full  of  money  at 
times,  and  so  very  extravagant,  that  he  had  many  words 
with  him  about  it,  and  had  determined  to  part  with  him  on 
account  of  his  conduct  being  so  very  suspicious  ;  that,  long 
before  dark  that  day,  he  had  sent  him  out  to  change  a 
guinea  for  him,  and  that  he  had  only  come  back  since  he 
(the  gentleman)  was  in  the  house,  saying,  he  could  not  get 
change  ;  and  that  Jennings  being  in  liquor,  he  had  sent  him 
to  bed,  resolving  to  discharge  him  in  the  morning.  That, 
at  the  time  he  returned  him  the  guinea,  he  (Mr.  Brunell) 
did  not  think  it  was  the  same  which  he  had  given  him  to 
get  silver  for,  having  perceived  a  mark  upon  this,  which 
he  was  very  clear  was  not  upon  the  other ;  but  that,  never- 
theless, he  should  have  thought  no  more  of  the  matter,  as 
Jennings  had  so  frequently  gold  of  his  own  in  his  pocket, 
had  he  not  afterwards  heard  (for  he  was  not  present  when 
the  gentleman  was  in  his  kitchen  relating  it)  the  particu- 
lars of  the  robbery,  and  that  the  guineas  which  the  high- 
wayman had  taken  were  all  marked  :  that,  however,  a  few 
minutes  previously  to  his  having  heard  this,  he  had  un- 
luckily paid  away  the  guinea  which  Jennings  returned  him, 
to  a  man  who  lived  some  distance  off,  and  was  gone  ;  but 
the  circumstances  of  it  struck  him  so  very  strongly,  that  he 
could  not,  as  an  honest  man,  refrain  from  giving  this  infor- 
mation. 

Mr.  Brunell  was  thanked  for  his  attention  and  public 
spirit.  There  was  the  strongest  reason  for  suspecting  Jen- 
nings ;  and  if,  on  searching  him,  any  of  the  marked  guineas 
should  be  found,  as  the  gentleman  could  swear  to  them, 


213 

there  would  then  remain  no  doubt.  It  was  now  agreed  to 
go  softly  up  to  his  room ;  Jennings  was  fast  asleep ;  his 
pockets  were  searched,  and  from  one  of  them  was  drawn 
forth  a  purse  containing  exactly  nineteen  guineas.  Suspi- 
cion now  became  demonstration,  for  the  gentleman  de- 
clared them  to  be  identically  those  which  he  had  been 
robbed  of !  Assistance  was  called,  Jennings  was  awaked, 
dragged  out  of  bed,  and  charged  with  the  robbery.  He 
denied  it  firmly,  but  circumstances  were  too  strong  to  gain 
him  belief.  He  was  secured  that  night,  and  the  next  day 
carried  before  a  neighboring  justice  of  the  peace.  The 
gentleman  and  Mr.  Brunell  deposed  the  facts  on  oath  ;  and 
Jennings  having  no  proofs,  nothing  but  mere  assertions  of 
innocence  to  oppose  them,  which  could  not  be  credited,  he 
was  committed  to  take  his  trial  at  the  next  assizes. 

So  strong  were  the  circumstances  known  to  be  against 
him,  that  several  of  his  friends  advised  him  to  plead  guilty 
on  his  trial,  and  to  throw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  the 
court.  This  advice  he  rejected,  and,  when  arraigned, 
pleaded  not  guilty.  The  prosecutor  swore  to  his  being 
robbed ;  but  that  it  being  nearly  dark,  the  highwayman  in 
a  mask,  and  himself  greatly  terrified,  he  could  not  swear  to 
the  prisoner's  person,  though  he  thought  him  of  much  the 
same  stature  as  the  man  who  robbed  him.  To  the  purse 
and  guineas,  which  were  produced  in  court,  he  swore — as 
to  the  purse  positively — and  as  to  the  guineas,  to  the  best 
of  his  belief,  and  that  they  were  found  in  the  prisoner's 
pocket. 

The  prisoner's  master,  Mr.  Brunell,  deposed  to  the  fact, 
as  to  the  sending  of  the  prisoner  to  change  a  guinea,  and 
of  his  having  brought  him  back  a  marked  one  in  the  room 
of  one  he  had  given  him  unmarked.  He  also  gave  evi- 
dence as  to  the  finding  of  the  purse,  and  the  nineteen 
marked  guineas  in  the  prisoner's  pocket.  And,  what  con- 
summated the  proof,  the  man  to  whom  Mr.  Brunell  paid 
the  guinea,  produced  the  same,  and  gave  testimony  to  the 
having  taken  it  that  night  in  payment  of  the  prisoner's 
master.  Mr.  Brunell  gave  evidence  of  his  having  received 
of  the  prisoner  that  guinea,  which  he  afterwards  paid  to 
this  last  witness.  And  the  prosecutor  comparing  it  with 
the  other  nineteen  found  in  the  pocket  of  the  prisoner, 


214  THE    MUSEUM. 

swore  to  its  being,  to  the  best  of  his  belief,  one  of  the  twenty 
guineas  of  which  he  was  robbed  by  the  highwayman. 

The  judge,  on  summing  up  the  evidence,  remarked  to 
the  jury,  on  all  the  concurring  circumstances  against  the 
prisoner :  and  the  jury,  on  this  strong  circumstantial  evi- 
dence, without  going  out  of  court,  brought  in  the  prisoner 
guilty.  Jennings  was  executed  some  little  time  after  at 
Hull,  repeatedly  declaring  his  innocence  to  the  very  mo- 
ment he  was  turned  off.  This  happened  in  the  year  1 742. 

Within  a  twelvemonth  after,  Jo  !  Brunell,  Jennings' 
master,  was  himself  taken  up  for  a  robbery  done  on  a 
guest  in  his  own  house  ;  and  the  fact  being  proved  on  his 
trial,  he  was  convicted,  and  ordered  for  execution.  The 
approach  of  death  brought  on  repentance,  and  repentance 
confession.  Brunell  not  only  acknowledged  the  commit- 
ting of  many  robberies,  for  some  years  past,  but  the  very 
one  for  which  poor  Jennings  suffered  ! 

The  account  he  gave  was,  that  he  arrived  at  home  by 
a  nearer  way  and  swifter  riding,  sometime  before  the  gen- 
tleman got  in  who  had  been  robbed.  That  he  found  a 
man  at  home  waiting,  to  whom  he  owed  a  little  bill,  and 
that,  not  having  quite  loose  money  enough  in  his  pocket, 
he  took  out  of  the  purse  one  guinea,  from  the  twenty  he 
had  just  got  possession  of,  to  make  up  the  sum  ;  which  he 
paid,  and  the  man  went  his  way.  Presently  came  in  the 
robbed  gentleman,  who,  whilst  Brunell  was  gone  into  the 
stables,  and  not  knowing  of  his  arrival,  told  his  tale,  as  be- 
fore related  in  the  kitchen.  The  gentleman  had  scarcely 
left  the  kitchen,  before  Brunell  entered  it ;  and  being  there 
informed,  among  other  circumstances,  of  the  marked 
guineas,  he  was  thunder-struck  !  Having  paid  one  of  them 
away,  and  not  daring  to  apply  for  it  again,  as  the  affair  of 
the  robbery  and  marked  guinea  would  soon  become  pub- 
licly known, — detection,  disgrace,  and  ruin,  appeared  ine- 
vitable. Turning  in  his  mind  every  way  to  escape,  the 
thought  of  accusing  and  sacrificing  poor  Jennings  at  last 
struck  him.  The  rest  the  reader  knows. 


THE    MTTSETTM.  215 


TORTURE    OF    A    GIRL    AT    LIEGE. 

IN  the  year  1764,  a  citizen  of  Liege  was  found  dead  in 
his  chamber,  shot  in  the  head.  Close  to  him  lay  a  dis- 
charged pistol,  with  which  he  had  apparently  been  his  own 
executioner.  Fire  arms  are  the  chief  manufacture  of  that 
city ;  and  so  common  is  the  use  of  pistols  at  that  place, 
that  every  peasant  who  brings  his  goods  to  the  market 
there,  is  seen  armed  with  them  ;  so  that  the  circumstance 
of  the  pistol  did  not,  at  first,  meet  with  so  much  attention 
as  it  might  have  done  in  places  where  those  weapons  are 
not  in  such  common  use.  But,  upon  the  researches  of  the 
proper  officer  of  that  city,  whose  duty,  like  that  of  our 
coroner,  is  to  inquire  into  all  the  circumstances  of  acci- 
dental deaths,  it  appeared,  that  the  ball,  which  was  found 
lodged  in  the  head  of  the  deceased,  could  never,  from  its 
size,  have  been  fired  out  of  the  pistol  which  lay  by  him : 
thus  it  was  clear  that  he  had  been  murdered ;  nor  were 
they  long  in  deciding  who  was  the  murderer.  A  girl,  of 
about  sixteen,  the  niece  of  the  deceased,  had  been  brought 
up  by  him,  and  he  had  been  always  supposed  to  have  in- 
tended to  leave  her  his  effects,  which  were  something  con- 
siderable ;  but  the  girl  had  then  lately  listened  to  the  ad- 
dresses of  a  young  man  whom  the  uncle  did  not  approve 
of,  and  he  had,  upon  that  occasion,  several  times  threatened 
to  alter  his  will,  and  leave  his  fortune  to  some  other  of  his 
relations.  Upon  these,  and  some  other  concurrent  cir- 
cumstances, such  as  having  been  heard  to  wish  her  uucle's 
death,  &c.,  the  girl  was  committed  to  prison. 

The  torturing  a  supposed  criminal,  in  order  to  force 
confession,  is  certainly  the  most  cruel  and  absurd  idea  that 
ever  entered  into  the  head  of  a  legislator.  This  being  ob- 
served «by  M.  de  Voltaire,  who  was  then  at  Liege,  to  a 
magistrate  of  that  place,  on  this  very  occasion,  his  defence 
was: — "We  never  condemn  to  the  torture  but  upon  cir- 
cumstances on  which  the  English  would  convict ;  so  that 
the  innocent  has  really  a  better  chance  to  escape  here  than 
elsewhere  ;"  but,  until  it  is  proved  that  pain  has  a  greater 
tendency  to  make  a  person  speak  truth  than  falsehood 


216 


THE    MUSEUM 


this  reasoning  seems  to  have  little  weight  with  reasonable 
persons.- 

This  unhappy  girl  was,  therefore,  horribly  and  repeat- 
edly tortured  ;  but  still  persevering  in  asserting  her  inno- 
cence, she  at  last  escaped  with  life — if  it  could  be  called 
an  escape,  when  it  was  supposed  she  would  never  again 
enjoy  either  health  or  the  use  of  her  limbs,  from  the  effects 
of  the  torture. 

M.  de  Voltaire  learned,  some  years  afterwards,  that  her 
innocence  became  manifest,  by  the  confession  of  the  real 
assassins,  who,  being  sentenced  to  the  wheel  for  other 
crimes,  confessed  themselves  the  authors  of  this,  of  which 
the  girl  had  been  suspected ;  and  that,  several  pistols  hav- 
ing been  discharged  at  the  deceased,  they  had,  intending 
that  it  should  appear  a  suicide,  laid  a  pistol  near  him,  with- 
out adverting  that  it  was  not  the  same  by  which  he  fell. 


MEXANCHOLY    CATASTROPHE    AT    A    MASQUERADE. 

CHARLES  the  Sixth,  King  of  France,  was  of  so  gloomy 
and  melancholy  a  disposition,  that  all  the  courtiers  strove 
to  outdo  each  other  in  contriving  means  to  arnuse  him. 
Nothing  was  to  be  seen  at  court  but  concerts,  balls,  tilting, 
and  the  like — in  short,  every  day  was  distinguished  by 
some  new  diversion.  Queen  Blanche  gave  a  ball  at  her 
hotel  in  the  suburb  of  Marceau.  Hongrimen  de  Jansey 
the  king's  master  of  the  horse,  invented  a  masquerade,  re- 
presenting savages,  or  wild  men,  whose  habits  were  of 
linen,  upon  which  very  fine  tow  was  fixed  with  pitch  to 
imitate  hair.  This  uncouth  kind  of  dress  appeared  very 
agreeable  in  those  unpolished  times,  and  was  so  much 
boasted  of  at  court,  that  the  king  demanded  a  suit,  with 
which  he  was  so  well  pleased,  that  he  determined  to  be 
present  at  the  masquerade.  It  was  then  settled  that  the 
king,  dressed  like  a  savage,  should  enter  the  ball-room, 
holding  five  other  savages  in  chains,  which  accordingly  was 
executed.  When  the  savages  had  entered,  the  king  loos- 
ened them  that  they  might  dance,  and  seated  himself  on 
the  knee  of  the  Dutchess  of  Berry,  who  was  extremely 


THE    MUSEUM.  217 

beautiful.  At  this  instant  the  Duke  of  Orleans  arrived, 
who,  astonished  at  any  person  taking  so  great  a  liberty 
with  the  Dutchess  of  Berry,  ordered  his  pages  to  bring  a 
flambeau,  in  order  that  he  might  discover  who  this  mask 
was.  One  of  the  pages,  having  held  his  torch  too  near  the 
savages  who  were  dancing,  set  fire  to  their  dresses,  which 
being  made  of  combustible  materials,  were  instantly  in 
flames :  the  musicians  ceased,  and  nothing  was  heard  but 
the  most  lamentable  cries :  one  among  the  sufferers  so  far 
forgot  his  own  distress  as  to  cry — "  Save  the  king."  The 
Dutchess  of  Berry  suspecting  that  he  was  the  person  who 
sat  on  her  knees,  covered  him  with  her  robe,  and  saved 
his  habit  from  catching  fire.  All  the  noblemen  who  were 
in  the  savages'  dress  were  burnt  to  death,  except  one,  who 
recollecting  that  he  had  seen  not  far  off  a  large  tub  of  wa- 
ter, ran  and  threw  himself  into  it.  This  unhappy  news  was 
soon  spread  throughout  Paris.  The  people,  who  loved 
their  king,  believing  that  he  was  dead,  uttered  the  most 
sorrowful  lamentations  ;  but  Charles,  in  order  to  satisfy 
them,  mounted  on  horseback  next  day,  went,  accompanied 
by  a  great  number  of  gentlemen,  to  return  thanks  to  God, 
at  the  church  of  Notre  Dame.  He  caused  the  house  where 
the  accident  happened,  to  be  razed  to  the  ground,  and 
founded  the  chapel  of  Orleans  in  the  church  of  the  Celes- 
tines,  to  pray  for  the  souls  of  those  who  perished  by  this 
catastrophe.  The  danger  to  which  the  king  had  been  ex- 
posed affected  his  brain  ;  he  imagined  he  had  phantoms  or 
precipices  continually  before  his  eyes  ;  in  short,  from  that 
time  till  his  death,  he  continued  in  a  melancholy  and  lan- 
guishing condition.  This  event  happened  in  the  year  1593. 


THE    FEMALE    HUSBAND. 

ABOUT  the  year  1736,  a  young  fellow  courted  one  Mary 
East,  and  for  him  she  conceived  the  greatest  liking ;  but 
he,  going  upon  the  highway,  was  tried  for  a  robbery  and 
cast,  but  was  afterwards  transported :  this  so  affected  our 
heroine,  that  she  resolved  ever  to  remain  single.  In  the 
same  neighborhood  lived  another  young  woman,  who  had 

19 


218  THE    MUSEUM. 

likewise  met  with  many  crosses  in  love,  arid  had  determin- 
ed on  the  like  resolution ;  being  intimate,  they  communi- 
cated their  minds  to  each  other,  and  determined  to  live  to- 
gether ever  after.  After  consulting  on  the  best  method  of 
proceeding,  they  agreed  that  one  should  put  on  man's  ap- 
parel, and  that  they  would  live  as  man  and  wife  in  some 
part  where  they  were  not  known :  the  difficulty  now  was 
who  was  to  be  the  man,  which  was  soon  decided,  by  the 
toss  up  of  a  halfpenny,  and  the  lot  fell  on  Mary  East,  who 
was  then  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  her  partner 
seventeen.  The  sum  they  were  then  possessed  of  together 
was  30/. ;  with  this  they  set  out,  and  Mary,  after  purchas- 
ing a  man's  habit,  assumed  the  name  of  James  How,  by 
which  we  will  for  a  while  distinguish  her.  In  the  progress 
of  their  journey,  they  happened  to  light  on  a  little  pub- 
lic house  at  Epping,  which  was  to  let,  they  took  it,  and 
lived  in  it  for  some  time  :  about  this  period  a  quarrel  hap- 
pened between  James  How  and  a  young  gentleman. 
James  entered  an  action  against  him,  and  obtained  dama- 
ges of  500Z.,  which  was  paid  him.  Possessed  of  this  sum, 
they  sought  out  for  a  place  in  a  better  situation,  and  took 
a  public  house  in  Limehouse-hole,  where  they  lived  many 
years,  saving  money,  still  cohabiting  as  man  and  wife,  in 
good  credit  and  esteem ;  they  afterwards  left  this,  and  re- 
moved to  the  White  Horse  at  Poplar,  which  they  bought, 
and  after  that,  several  more  houses. 

About  the  year  1750,  one  Mrs.  Bentley,  who  lived  on 
Garlick  hill,  and  was  acquained  with  James  in  her  younger 
days,  knowing  in  what  good  circumstances  she  lived,  and 
of  her  being  a  woman,  thought  this  a  good  scheme  to  build 
a  project  on,  and  accordingly  sent  to  her  for  IOL,  at  the 
same  time  intimating  that  if  she  would  not  send  it,  she 
would  discover  her  sex.  James,  fearful  of  this,  complied 
with  her  demand,  and  sent  her  the  money.  It  rested  here 
for  a  considerable  time,  in  which  time  James  lived  with  his 
supposed  wife  in  good  credit,  and  had  served  all  the  parish 
offices  in  Poplar,  excepting  constable  and  church- warden, 
from  the  former  of  which  she  was  excused  by  a  lameness 
in  her  hand,  occasioned  by  the  quarrel  already  mentioned ; 
the  other  she  was  to  have  been  next  year,  if  this  discovery 
had  not  happened :  she  had  been  several  times  foreman 


THE    MUSEUM.  219 

of  juries  ;  though  her  effeminacy  indeed  was  remarked  by 
most.  At  Christmas,  1765,  Mrs.  Bentley  sent  again  with 
the  same  demand  for  10/.,  and  with  the  like  threatening 
obtained  it ;  flushed  with  success,  and  not  yet  contented, 
she  within  a  fortnight  after  sent  again  for  the  like  sum, 
which  James  at  that  time  happened  not  to  have  in  the 
house  ;  however,  still  fearful  and  cautious  of  a  discovery, 
she  sent  her  51.  The  supposed  wife  of  James  How  died, 
and  the  same  unconscionable  Mrs.  Bentley  now  thought 
of  some  scheme  to  enlarge  her  demand  :  for  this  purpose 
she  got  two  fellows  to  execute  her  plan,  the  one  a  mulatto, 
who  was  to  pass  for  one  of  justice  Fielding's  gang,  the 
other  to  be  equipped  with  a  short  pocket  staff,  and  to  act 
as  constable.  In  these  characters  they  carne  to  the  White 
Horse,  and  inquired  for  Mr.  How,  who  answered  to  the 
name ;  they  told  her  that  they  came  from  justice  Fielding 
to  take  her  into  custody  for  a  robbery  committed  by  her 
forty-four  years  ago,  and  moreover,  that  she  was  a  woman. 
Terrified  to  the  greatest  degree  on  account  of  her  sex, 
though  conscious  of  her  innocence  in  regard  to  the  rob- 
bery, an  intimate  acquaintance,  one  Mr.  Williams  a  pawn- 
broker, happening  to  be  passing  by,  she  called  to  him,  and 
told  him  the  business  these  two  men  came  about,  and 
withal,  added  this  declaration  to  Mr.  Williams,  I  am  really 
a.  woman,  but  innocent  of  their  charge. 

On  this  sincere  confession  he  told  her  she  should  not  be 
carried  to  Fielding,  but  go  before  her  own  bench  of  jus- 
tices ;  that  he  would  just  step  home,  put  on  a  clean  shirt, 
and  be  back  in  five  minutes.  At  his  departure,  the  two 
fellows  threatened  Jarnes  How,  but  at  the  same  time  told 
her,  that  if  she  would  give  them  100/.  they  would  trouble 
her  no  more :  if  not,  she  should  be  hanged  in  sixteen  days, 
and  they  should  have  407.  a  piece,  each,  for  hanging  her. 
Notwithstanding  these  threatenings  she  would  not  give 
them  the  money,  waiting  with  impatience  till  the  return  of 
Mr.  Williams :  on  her  denial,  they  immediately  forced  her 
out.  and  took  her  near  the  fields,  still  using  the  same  threats ; 
adding  with  imprecations,  had  you  not  better  give  us  the 
1 OOZ.  than  be  hanged  ?  after  a  while  they  got  her  through  the 
fields,  and  brought  her  to  Garlick  hill,  to  the  house  of  the 
identical  Mrs.  Bentley,  where  with  threats  they  got  her  to 


220  THE    MUSEUM. 

give  a  draft  on  Mr.  Williams  to  Bentley,  payable  in  a  short 
time  ;  which  when  they  had  obtained,  they  sent  her  about 
her  business.  Williams  came  back  punctual  to  his  promise, 
and  was  surprised  to  find  her  gone :  he  immediately  went 
to  the  bench  of  justices  to  see  if  she  was  there,  and  not 
finding  her,  went  to  Sir  John  Fielding's,  and  not  succeed- 
ing, came  back,  when  James  soon  after  returned  ;  when 
she  related  to  him  all  that  had  passed.  The  discovery  was 
now  public.  On  Monday,  July  14,  1766,  Mrs.  Bentley 
came  to  Mr.  Williams  with  the  draft,  to  know  if  he  would 
pay  it,  being  due  the  Wednesday  after  :  he  told  her  if  she 
came  with  it  when  due,  he  should  know  better  what  to  say ; 
in  the  mean  time,  he  applied  to  the  bench  of  justices  for 
advice,  and  Wednesday  being  come,  they  sent  a  constable 
with  others  to  be  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Bentley  punctually 
came  for  the  payment  of  the  draft,  bringing  with  her  the 
mulatto  man,  both  of  whom  were  taken  into  custody,  and 
carried  to  the  bench  of  justices  sitting  at  the  Angel  in 
White-chapel,  where  Mr.  Williams,  attended  with  James 
How,  dressed  in  the  proper  habit  of  her  sex,  now  again 
under  her  real  name  of  Mary  East.  The  alteration  of  her 
dress  from  that  of  a  man  to  that  of  a  woman,  appeared  so 
great,  that  together  with  her  awkward  behavior  in  her  new 
assumed  habit,  it  caused  great  diversion. 

In  the  course  of  their  examination  Mrs.  Bentley  denied 
sending  for  the  100Z. ;  the  mulatto  declared  likewise,  if  she 
had  not  sent  him  for  it  he  should  never  have  gone.  In 
short,  they  so  contradicted  each  other,  that  they  discovered 
the  whole  villany  of  their  designs.  In  regard  to  the  ten 
pounds  which  Bentley  had  before  obtained,  she  in  her  de- 
fence urged  that  Mary  East  had  sent  it  to  her.  After  the 
strongest  proof  of  their  extortion  and  assault,  they  were 
denied  any  bail,  and  both  committed  to  Clerkenwell  Bride- 
well to  be  tried  for  the  offence  :  the  other  man  made  off, 
and  was  not  afterwards  heard  of.  At  the  following  ses- 
sion the  mulatto,  whose  name  was  William  Barwick,  was 
tried  for  defrauding  the  female  husband  of  money,  and  was 
convicted  ;  when  he  was  sentenced  to  four  years  imprison- 
ment, and  to  stand  four  times  in  the  pillory. 

During  the  whole  of  their  cohabiting  together  as  man 
and  wife,  which  was  thirty-four  years,  they  lived  in  good 


THE    MUSEUM.  221 

credit  and  esteem,  having  during  this  time  traded  for  many 
thousand  pounds,  and  been  to  a  day  punctual  to  their  pay- 
ments :  they  had  also  by  honest  means  saved  up  between 
4000/.  and  5000Z.  between  them.  It  is  remarkable  that  it 
has  never  been  observed  that  they  ever  dressed  a  joint  of 
meat  in  their  whole  lives,  nor  ever  had  any  meetings  or 
the  like  at  their  house.  They  never  kept  either  maid  or 
boy ;  but  Mary  East,  the  late  James  How,  always  used 
to  draw  beer,  serve,  fetch  in  and  carry  out  pots  always  her- 
self, so  peculiar  were  they  in  each  particular. 


PRESSING    TO    DEATH. 

A  MOST  barbarous  law  formerly  prevailed  in  this  country 
which  imposed  the  punishment  of  pressing  an  individual  to 
death  if  he  refused  to  plead  on  his  trial.  Several  instances 
of  its  being  put  into  execution  have  occurred  in  the  history 
of  the  English  criminal  code. 

The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  a  play,  which  some  critics  at- 
tribute to  Shakspeare,  is  founded  on  the  tragical  tale  of 
Mr.  Calverly,  a  gentleman  of  good  family  in  the  north  of 
England,  who  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  killed  his  wife,  and  re- 
fused to  plead  that  he  might  preserve  his  estate  to  his  child ; 
he  was  pressed  to  death. 

At  the  Nottingham  Assizes,  in  1735,  a  person  commonly 
reputed  deaf  and  dumb  from  his  infancy,  committed  a  mur- 
der. When  brought  to  trial,  two  persons  swore  positively 
that  he  had  been  heard  to  speak.  He  was  desired  to 
plead,  but  pleaded  not.  He  was  taken  into  an  adjoining 
room  and  actually  pressed  to  death,  without  uttering  a 
word,  which  there  is  reason  to  believe  he  never  could  do. 

At  the  Kilkenny  Assizes,  in  1740,  one  Matthew  Ryan 
was  tried  for  highway  robbery.  When  he  was  appre- 
hended he  pretended  to  be  a  lunatic,  stripped  himself  in 
the  jail,  threw  away  his  clothes,  and  could  not  be  prevail- 
ed on  to  put  them  on  again,  but  went  as  he  was  to  the  court 
to  take  his  trial.  He  then  affected  to  be  dumb,  and  would 
not  plead  ;  on  which  the  judges  ordered  a  jury  to  be  im- 
pannelled,  to  inquire  and  give  their  opinion  whether  he  was 

19* 


222  THE    MUSEUM. 

mute  and  lunatic  by  the  hand  of  God,  or  wilfully  so.  The 
jury  returned  in  a  short  time,  and  brought  in  a  verdict  of 
"  Wilful  and  affected  dumbness  and  lunacy."  The  judges 
on  this  desired  the  prisoner  to  plead ;  but  he  still  pretend- 
ed to  be  insensible  to  all  that  was  said  to  him.  The  law 
now  called  for  the  peine  forte  et  dure ;  but  the  judges 
compassionately  deferred  awarding  it  until  a  future  day,  in 
the  hope,  that  he  might  in  the  mean  time  acquire  a  juster 
sense  of  his  situation.  When  again  brought  up,  however, 
the  criminal  persisted  in  his  refusal  to  plead :  and  the  court 
at  last  pronounced  the  dreadful  sentence,  that  he  should 
be  pressed  to  death.  This  sentence  was  accordingly  exe- 
cuted upon  him  two  days  after,  in  the  public  market  place 
of  Kilkenny.  As  the  weights  were  heaping  on  the  wretch- 
ed man,  he  earnestly  supplicated  to  be  hanged ;  but  it  be- 
ing beyond  the  power  of  the  sheriff  to  deviate  from  the 
mode  of  punishment  prescribed  in  the  sentence,  even  this 
was  an  indulgence  which  could  no  longer  be  granted  to 
him. 

Another  instance  is  related  in  the  annals  of  Newgate,  of 
one  William  Spiggot,  who  suffered  in  the  same  manner. 

Before  he  was  put  into  the  press,  the  ordinary  of  New- 
gate endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  hastening  his  own 
death  in  such  a  manner,  and  thereby  depriving  himself  of 
that  time  which  the  law  allowed  him  to  repent  in  :  to  which 
he  only  answered,  if  you  come  to  take  care  of  my  soul,  I 
shall  regard  you ;  but  if  you  come  about  my  body,  I  must 
desire  to  be  excused,  for  I  cannot  hear  one  word.  At  the 
next  visit  the  chaplain  found  him  lying  in  the  vault,  upon 
the  bare  ground,  with  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  weight 
upon  his  breast,  and  then  prayed  by  him,  and  several  times 
asked  him,  why  he  would  hazard  his  soul  by  such  obstinate 
kind  of  self-murder.  But  all  the  answer  that  he  made  was 
pray  for  me,  pray  for  me.  He  sometimes  lay  silent  under 
the  pressure,  as  if  insensible  of  pain,  and  then  again  would 
fetch  his  breath  very  quick  and  short.  Several  times  he 
complained  that  they  had  laid  a  cruel  weight  upon  his  face, 
though  it  was  covered  with  nothing  but  a  thin  cloth,  which 
was  afterwards  removed,  and  laid  more  light  and  hollow ; 
yet  he  still  complained  of  the  prodigious  weight  upon  his 
face,  which  might  be  caused  by  the  blood  being  forced  up 


THE    MUSEUM.  223 

thither,  and  pressing  the  veins  as  violently  as  if  the  force 
had  been  externally  on  his  face. 

When  he  had  remained  half  an  hour  under  this  load,  and 
fifty  pounds  weight  more  laid  on  him,  being  in  all  four  hun- 
dred, he  told  those  that  attended  him  he  would  plead. 

Immediately  the  weights  were  at  once  taken  off,  the 
cords  cut  asunder,  he  was  raised  up  by  two  men,  some 
brandy  was  put  into  his  mouth  to  revive  him,  and  he  was 
carried  to  take  his  trial. 

The  reasons  he  gave  for  enduring  the  press  were,  that 
his  effects  might  be  preserved  for  the  good  of  his  family, 
that  none  might  reproach  his  children  by  telling  them  their 
father  was  hanged,  and  that  Joseph  Lindsey  might  not 
triumph  in  saying,  he  had  sent  him  to  Tyburn.  He  seem- 
ed to  be  much  incensed  against  this  Lindsey ;  for,  says  he, 
I  was  once  wounded,  in  danger  of  my  life,  by  rescuing 
him  when  he  was  near  being  taken,  and  yet  he  afterwards 
made  himself  an  evidence  against  me. 

The  press  yard  in  Newgate  was  so  named  because  it 
was  the  place  for  inflicting  this  punishment. 


TRUE    HEROISM,    OR   THE    PHYSICIAN   OF   MARSEILLES. 

WHILST  the  plague  raged  violently  at  Marseilles,  every 
link  of  affection  was  broken,  the  father  turned  from  the 
child,  the  child  from  the  father ;  cowardice  and  ingratitude 
no  longer  excited  indignation.  Misery  is  at  its  height  when 
it  thus  destroys  every  generous  feeling,  thus  dissolves  every 
tie  of  humanity  !  the  city  became  a  desert,  grass  grew  in 
the  streets  ;  a  funeral  met  you  at  every  step. 

The  physicians  assembled  in  a  body  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville,  to  hold  a  consultation  on  the  fearful  disease,  for 
which  no  remedy  had  yet  been  discovered.  After  a 
long  deliberation,  they  decided  unanimously,  that  the 
malady  had  a  peculiar  and  mysterious  character,  which 
opening  a  corpse  alone  might  develope  — an  operation  it 
was  impossible  to  attempt,  since  the  operator  must  infalli- 
bly become  a  victim  in  a  few  hours,  beyond  the  power  of 
human  art  to  save  him,  as  the  violence  of  the  attack  would 


224  THE    MUSEUM. 

preclude  their  administering  the  customary  remedies.  A 
dead  pause  succeeded  this  fatal  declaration.  Suddenly,  a 
surgeon  named  Guyon,  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  of  great 
celebrity  in  his  profession,  rose  and  said  firmly,  "  Be  it  so : 
I  devote  myself  for  the  safety  of  my  country.  Before  this 
numerous  assembly  I  swear,  in  the  name  of  humanity  and 
religion,  that  to-morrow,  at  the  break  of  day,  I  will  dissect 
a  corpse,  and  write  down  as  I  proceed,  what  I  observe." 
He  left  the  assembly  instantly.  They  admired  him,  la- 
mented his  fate,  and  doubted  whether  he  would  persist  in 
nis  design.  The  intrepid  Guyon,  animated  by  all  the  sub- 
lime energy  which  patriotism  can  inspire,  acted  up  to  his 
word.  He  had  never  married,  he  was  rich,  and  he  imme- 
diately made  a  will ;  he  confessed,  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  received  the  sacraments.  A  man  had  died  of 
the  plague  in  his  house  within  four  and  twenty  hours.  Guy- 
on, at  day-break,  shut  himself  up  in  the  same  room  ;  he 
took  with  him  an  inkstand,  paper,  and  a  little  crucifix. 
Full  of  enthusiasm,  and  kneeling  before  the  corpse,  he  wrote, 
— "  Mouldering  remains  of  an  immortal  soul,  not  only  can 
I  gaze  on  thee  without  horror,  but  even  with  joy  and  grati- 
tude. Thou  wilt  open  to  me  the  gates  of  a  glorious  eter- 
nity. In  discovering  to  me  the  secret  cause  of  the  terrible 
disease  which  destroys  my  native  city,  thou  wilt  enable 
me  to  point  out  some  salutary  remedy — thou  wilt  render 
my  sacrifice  useful.  Oh  God  !  thou  wilt  bless  the  action 
thou  hast  thyself  inspired."  He  began — he  finished  the 
dreadful  operation,  and  recorded  in  detail  his  surgical  ob- 
servations. He  left  the  room,  threw  the  papers  into  a  vase 
of  vinegar,  and  afterwards  sought  the  lazaretto,  where  he 
died  in  twelve  hours — a  death  ten  thousand  times  more 
glorious  than  the  warrior's  who  to  save  his  country,  rushes 
on  the  enemy's  ranks,  since  he  advances  with  hope,  at 
least,  sustained,  admired,  and  seconded  by  a  whole  army. 
La  Peste  de  Marseilles  by  Madame  de  Genlis. 


THE    MUSEUM.  225 


INGRATITUDE    TOWARDS    A   NEGRO    SLAVE. 

MONSIEUR  LAZARE,  a  native  of  Provence,  and  trader  of 
Martinico,  in  the  beginning  of  the  French  revolution,  but 
since  residing  at  Port  Spain,  embarked  on  board  a  Span- 
ish launch  of  the  Oronico,  which  was  to  take  him  to  St. 
Thomas  de  Angostura.  He  carried  a  very  considerable 
venture  with  him,  and  had  a  young  negro  of  fourteen  years 
old  as  his  servant. 

When  the  boat  arrived  at  the  islets  of  the  Oronico,  a 
Spanish  sailor  proposed  to  his  comrades  to  murder  Lazare 
and  his  negro,  and  seize  on  the  cargo.  As  all  the  rest 
were  not  so  ferocious  as  the  author  of  the  proposal,  it  was 
decided,  that  Lazare  should  be  left  on  one  of  those  desert 
isles :  and  fearing  that  he  might  escape  by  swimming  to 
some  adjacent  one  inhabited  by  the  Gouaraouns,  they 
bound  him  to  a  cocoa  tree,  thus  condemning  him  to  die  of 
hunger.  When  those  monsters  returned  on  board  the 
boat,  they  deliberated  on  what  they  could  do  with  the 
young  negro,  and  it  was  decided  that  he  should  be  drown- 
ed. He  was  therefore  thrown  into  the  river ;  they  also 
gave  him  some  blows  on  the  head  with  an  oar,  but  these 
did  not  prevent  him  from  diving  and  swimming  to  the  islet 
on  which  his  master  had  been  left ;  fortunately  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night  hindered  them  from  seeing  him  when  he 
reached  the  shore.  At  day-break  the  little  negro  roved 
about  the  island,  and  at  length  discovered  his  master,  whom 
he  supposed  to  be  dead,  fastened  to  the  tree.  Lazare's 
joy  and  surprise  on  this  unexpected  sight  of  his  servant 
may  be  readily  imagined  ;  the  cord  which  bound  him  hav- 
ing been  untied,  his  first  expression  of  gratitude  was  a  posi- 
tive promise  of  liberty  to  his  slave.  They  next  went  in 
search  of  food  to  satisfy  their  hunger ;  but  perceiving 
traces  of  human  footsteps,  Lazare,  shivering  with  fear, 
spoke  to  his  negro  of  people  who  roast  and  eat  men. 

After  mature  deliberation,  they  determined,  that  from  the 
certainty  in  which  they  were  of  starving,  or  of  not  being 
able  to  escape,  they  might  just  as  well  go  and  meet  the 
men  eaters.  Following  the  track  they  soon  heard  human 
voices  ;  and  a  little  after  saw  men  perched  on  the  trees,  in 


226  THE    MUSEUM. 

a  species  of  nest  proportioned  to  their  sizes.  "  Come, 
come,"  said  a  Gouaraoun  to  Lazare,  looking  at  him  from 
his  roost.  "  Heavens,"  cried  the  Frenchman,  who  under- 
stood Spanish,  "  they  want  to  eat  us."  "  No  Massa,"  re- 
plied the  little  negro,  who  had  some  knowledge  of  the  En- 
glish languish  ;  "  they  are  only  calling  us  to  them."  The 
Gouaraoun  soon  put  an  end  to  their  anxiety,  by  showing 
them  two  large  pieces  of  fish,  and  inviting  them,  by  signs, 
to  climb  up  the  tree,  and  partake  of  his  meal.  The  little 
negro  soon  reached  his  host,  but  the  lubberly  Lazare  not 
being  able  to  climb,  they  threw  down  several  pieces  of  fish, 
some  raw  and  others  dressed,  which  he  devoured  most 
voraciously.  At  length  the  Gouaraouns  descended  from 
the  trees  to  talk  with  him.  He  that  had  cried,  "  Come, 
come,"  spoke  a  little  Spanish,  and  supposed  Lazare  to  be 
a  man,  who,  disgusted  with  the  slavery  of  social  life,  had 
come  peaceably  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  liberty  among 
them.  This  Gouaraoun,  who  was  a  man  of  importance 
among  his  tribe,  extolled  the  project  highly,  told  Lazare  he 
would  give  him  a  wife,  dog,  and  canoe,  and  that  he  would 
also  teach  him  to  shoot  with  a  bow.  But  when  the  trader  re- 
lated his  disastrous  adventure,  they  testified  a  considerable 
degree  of  contempt  for  him.  Having  next  requested  them 
to  convey  him  to  Trinidad,  and  made  the  most  magnificent 
promises,  the  Gouaraoun  told  him  in  bad  Spanish,  that  he 
could  not  conceive  why  he  did  not  prefer  living  with  them 
happy,  tranquil,  and  without  masters,  rather  than  return  to 
those  villanous  white  people  ! 

When  they  saw  that  he  was  determined  to  return  to 
Trinidad,  they  equipped  a  pirogue  to  carry  him  there, 
without  its  ever  occurring  to  them  to  stipulate  for  the  price 
of  his  passage.  At  length,  Lazare  having  arrived  at  Port 
Spain,  gave  the  Gouarouns  some  knives,  hatchets,  and  a 
small  cask  of  rum,  and  they  departed  satisfied.  The  reader 
will  be  impatient  to  know  how  he  recompensed  the  slave 
who  saved  his  life  :  he  will  naturally  follow  him  in  his 
mind's  eye,  conducting  the  faithful  negro  before  a  magi- 
strate to  establish  his  freedom.  Vain  illusion !  The  in- 
famous Lazare,  being  in  want  of  money  a  short  time  after- 
wards— sold  this  very  negro. 


THE    MUSEUM.  221 


ATTEMPT    TO    ESCAPE    FROM    THE    PRISON    AT    LYONS. 

DURING  the  reign  of  terror  in  the  early  part  of  the  French 
Revolution,  the  prisons  of  Lyons  were  filled  with  thousands 
of  unhappy  victims.  Among  these  was  a  person  named 
Delandine,  who  had  been  marked  out  as  an  object  of  po- 
litical vengeance,  but  who  afterwards  had  the  good  fortune 
to  be  set  at  liberty,  when  he  gave  to  the  world  a  narrative 
of  his  own  sufferings,  into  which  he  introduced  a  variety 
of  curious  facts  respecting  his  fellow  prisoners. 

"  Our  chamber,"  says  he,  "  was  long  and  gloomy  ;  fifty 
new  comers  were  lodged  near  the  entrance,  and  thirty  old 
inhabitants  occupied  the  upper  end.  A  large  blue  cloak, 
which  was  hung  against  the  wall  upon  two  nails,  covered 
a  great  part  of  that  end.  Behind  this  cloak,  and  concealed 
from  observation  by  it,  Charbonnieres  had  for  some  time 
been  busily  employed  in  scraping  out  the  cement  which 
held  the  stones  of  the  wall  together,  and  loosening  the 
stones  ;  working  chiefly  while  most  of  his  fellow-prisoners 
were  taking  the  air  or  sleeping.  Three  only  of  his  com- 
rades were  associated  in  the  plot :  one  carried  away  in  his 
pockets  the  mortar  as  it  was  scraped  out,  which  he  con- 
trived to  throw  away  as  he  walked  about  the  court.  The 
other  two  were  always  singing,  or  rather  bawling,  or  else 
quarreling  and  disputing,  to  engage  the  attention  of  those 
who  remained  in  the  room,  and  prevent  their  hearing  any 
noise.  One  day  a  violent  dispute  arose,  when,  from  words 
they  came  to  blows,  throwing  their  arms  and  legs  about  to 
the  great  annoyance  of  their  comrades,  who  fled  to  avoid 
receiving  kicks  and  cuffs  not  intended  for  them.  In  this 
interval  of  uproar,  a  large  stone  which  had  been  detached, 
was  by  a  violent  effort  from  Charbonnieres,  pushed  through, 
and  rolled  down  on  the  other  side.  This  was  all  he  want- 
ed ;  he  came  from  behind  his  place  of  concealment,  and 
laid  himself  down  quietly  on  his  straw,  flattering  himself, 
that  under  the  favor  of  the  shades  of  night,  he  should  now 
be  able  to  bid  adieu  to  his  prison. 

But  what  was  his  disappointment  and  that  of  his  asso- 
ciates, when  night  came,  and  they  went  to  explore  the 
opening  made,  to  find  that  it  only  led  into  a  neighboring 


228  THE    MUSEUM. 

church,  now  used  as  a  military  magazine,  and  shut  up  with 
locks  and  padlocks,  which  it  was  impossible  to  force  with- 
out instruments,  more  than  those  they  possessed  !  True 
courage,  however,  far  from  being  damped,  is  only  stimula- 
ted by  obstacles  ;  and  our  adventurers  were  not  disheart- 
ened, but  resolved  to  break  through  tiie  wall  of  the  church, 
and  every  other  they  might  meet  with.  With  the  same 
weapons  which  had  hitherto  served  them,  that  is,  the  tongues 
of  their  buckles,  and  the  blade  of  an  old  knife,  did  they  be- 
gin their  operations  in  a  corner  of  the  church  opposite  to 
the  wall  of  the  prison.  Unfortunately,  the  person  who  had 
the  charge  of  the  magazine,  lodged  directly  behind  this 
spot.  The  deadened  noise  which  he  at  first  heard,  be- 
coming every  night  more  distinct,  and  seemingly  to  ap- 
proach nearer  and  nearer,  he  began  to  suspect  what  was 
really  the  case,  when  some  fragments  of  stone  and  mortar 
falling  into  his  chamber,  confirmed  his  suspicion.  It  was 
midnight :  he  arose  hastily,  and  gave  information  of  what 
he  had  witnessed  to  the  turnkey  then  in  waiting.  The 
latter  accompanied  him  to  his  chamber,  listened,  examined, 
and  was  convinced  that  all  was  not  right.  He  hastened 
back  to  the  prison,  and  calling  a  guard  about  him,  the  doors 
of  the  chamber  were  violently  thrown  open,  and  a  search 
commenced  with  drawn  bayonets.  The  soldiers  raged, 
menaced,  swore,  and  the  turnkey  swore  and  menaced  more 
than  any  of  them.  The  prisoners  awoke  terrified,  con- 
ceiving that  the  massacre,  with  the  idea  of  which  their 
imaginations  had  been  so  long  filled,  was  now  about  to  be 
realized,  and  they  prepared  themselves  to  die.  Charbon- 
nieres  and  his  associates,  who  had  returned  upon  the  first 
alarm,  were  lying  peaceably  upon  their  straw,  pretending 
to  be  fast  asleep.  The  walls  were  examined,  the  cloak 
wras  taken  down ;  when,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the 
rest  of  the  prisoners,  a  large  breach  was  discovered,  made 
as  if  by  enchantment,  and  without  any  one  of  them  having 
entertained  the  least  idea  of  what  was  going  forward. 

In  vain  did  we  assert  our  innocence  ;  the  turnkey  could 
not  believe  it  possible  that  such  a  work  could  be  carried  on 
without  our  participation,  and  he  ordered  irons  to  be 
brought,  and  swore  that  we  should  be  all  removed  to  soli- 
tary dungeons.  The  irons  were  produced,  and  four  were 


THE    MUSEUM.  2ti9 

already  shackled,  when  Charbonnieres  suddenly  started  up, 
as  if  from  a  profound  sleep.  With  the  air  and  manner  of 
a  general  accustomed  to  command  and  brave  every  danger, 
"  Hold  !"  cried  he,  "  all  those  men  whom  you  have  thrown 
into  so  much  terror  are  innocent ;  perhaps  they  might  even 
have  had  the  false  delicacy  to  have  refused  the  means 
which  would  assuredly  have  been  offered  them.  But, 
would  you  know  the  real  author  of  the  project,  behold  me, 
it  is  I !  To  no  one  will  1  yield  the  honor  of  having  con- 
ceived the  idea :  that  was  entirely  my  own,  though  I  had 
associates  in  my  endeavors  to  carry  it  into  execution. 
These  three  men,  who  still  feign  to  sleep  in  spite  of  the 
noise,  have  been  the  sharers  in  my  labors,  though  they 
have  not  magnanimity  enough  to  share  in  the  avowal  I 
have  now  made.  They  may  justly  be  seized — they  deserve 
to  be  ironed."  Then  addressing  himself  to  the  turnkey, 
he  proceeded :  "  My  interest  is  to  endeavor  to  quit  this 
place ;  thine  is  to  detain  me  in  it,  and  to  guard  me  well, 
I  have  fulfilled  my  duty ;  do  thou  do  thine :  bring  hither 
the  irons ;  here  are  my  legs  ready  to  receive  them.  1 
shall  sleep  well  in  my  dungeon,  dreaming  of  the  inconceiv- 
able pleasure  I  should  have-  had  to  have  left  thee  here  an 
empty  apartment ;  and  devising  new  means,  if  possible, 
yet  to  procure  myself  that  pleasure." 

A  profound  silence  was  observed  by  every  one  during 
this  harangue.  Charbonnieres  sat  down:  the  irons  were 
fixed  on  his  legs ;  he  looked  with  a  smile  of  contempt  on 
his  associates,  who  reproached  him  for  having  denounced 
them.  He  wished  a  happy  release  from  all  their  troubles 
to  all  the  company  in  the  chamber,  and  went  away  gaity 
to  be  immured  in  his  dungeon.  Here  he  contracted  a  dan- 
gerous illness,  which  occasioned  him  to  be  removed  to  the 
hospital  for  the  prisoners,  whence  he  was  carried  before 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  When  examined,  he  asserted 
that  he  had  been  arrested  since  the  siege ;  preferring  to 
run  the  hazard  of  being  cut  off  at  once,  to  lingering  out  in 
prison  the  time  which  yet  remained  to  the  expiration  of 
his  sentence.  The  idea  was  bold,  and  evinced  great 
shrewdness  of  mind ;  it  was  crowned  with  the  happiest 
success.  His  name  was  sought  among  the  denounced  ; 
but  nothing  appearing  against  him,  his  name  not  even  be- 

20 


230  THE    MUSEUM. 

ing  on  the  list,  he  was  declared  a  good  sans-culotte,  with- 
out wealth,  and  without  a  crime,  and  was  immediately  set 
at  liberty. 


MAGNANIMOUS    HEROISM    OP    A    DUTCH    PLANTER. 

I  SHOULD  have  found  it  difficult  to  give  credit  to  the  fol- 
lowing occurrence,  had  it  not  happened  at  this  place  the 
evening  before  our  arrival :  and  if,  besides  the  public  noto- 
riety of  the  fact,  I  had  not  been  an  eye  witness  of  those 
vehement  emotions  of  sympathy  blended  with  admiration, 
which  it  had  justly  excited  in  the  mind  of  every  individual 
at  the  Cape. 

A  violent  gale  of  wind  setting  in  from  N.  N.  W.,  a  ves- 
sel in  the  road  dragging  her  anchors,  was  forced  on  the 
rocks  and  bilged  ;  and  while  the  greater  part  of  the  crew 
fell  an  immediate  sacrifice  to  the  waves,  the  remainder 
were  seen  from  the  shore  struggling  for  their  lives  by  cling- 
ing to  different  pieces  of  the  wreck.  The  sea  ran  dread- 
fully high,  and  broke  over  the  sailors  with  such  amazing 
fury  that  no  boat  whatever  could  venture  off  to  their  assist- 
ance. Meanwhile  a  planter  considerably  advanced  in  life, 
had  come  from  his  farm  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  awful 
shipwreck :  his  heart  was  melted  at  the  sight  of  the  un- 
happy seamen  :  and  knowing  the  bold  and  enterprising 
spirit  of  his  horse,  and  his  excellent  properties  as  a  swim- 
mer, he  instantly  determined  to  make  a  desperate  attempt 
for  their  deliverance.  He  alighted  and  blew  a  little  brandy 
into  his  horse's  nostrils :  and  again  seating  himself  firm  in 
his  saddle,  he  instantly  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the  break- 
ers. At  first,  both  disappeared  to  the  astonished  specta- 
tors, but  it  was  not  long  before  they  appeared  on  the  sur- 
face, and  swam  up  to  the  wreck,  when  taking  with  him 
two  men,  each  of  whom  held  by  one  of  his  boots,  he  brought 
them  safe  to  shore.  After  repeating  this  perilous  expedi- 
tion seven  times  he  succeeded  in  saving  fourteen  of  the  un- 
lortunaie  mariners,  whose  lives  by  his  exertions  were 
spared  to  the  public ;  but  on  his  return  the  eighth  time  a 
tremendous  wave  reared  its  foaming  head,  threatening  de- 


THE    MUSEUM.  231 

struction  to  both ;  and  as  the  horse  was  much  fatigued, 
the  rider  was  unable  to  keep  his  balance,  but  began  to  reel 
upon  his  seat,  the  spectators  during  this  time  had  beheld 
his  efforts  with  great  solicitude  and  admiration ;  but  when 
they  saw  the  danger  that  threatened  the  undaunted  plan- 
ter, their  admiration  was  turned  into  fears  for  his  safety ; 
the  wave  continued  to  approach ;  in  one  moment,  they 
were  both  overwhelmed  and  lost  to  the  sight  of  the  terrified 
spectators ;  after  a  short  time,  to  their  astonishment,  the 
horse  was  seen  endeavoring  to  reach  the  land,  which  it  did 
in  safety ;  but  its  brave  and  noble  rider  had  sunk  never  to 
rise  again. 

It  is  to  be  lamented  that  the  name  of  the  person  who 
performed  this  act  of  heroism  is  omitted.  How  few  have 
merited  so  well  as  this  man,  the  insciption, 

VIRO    IMMORTAL  ! 

[Recorded  in  ilie  Travels  of  M.  de  Pages  and  Dr.  Spar- 
man.] 


RUNNING    A    MUCK. 

THE  slaves  of  the  Malay  race,  says  Captain  Percival,  in 
his  narrative  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  are  rather  nume- 
rous. They  are  employed  in  many  kinds  of  laborious 
works,  such  as  gardening,  and  attending  the  grounds  be- 
longing to  the  houses  round  the  town  ;  and  in  the  kitchens, 
and  in  the  drudgery  work  belonging  to  them.  They  are 
also  often  employed  in  fishing  and  procuring  fuel.  This 
last  class  of  people  are  extremely  vindictive,  treacherous, 
and  ferocious :  implacable  in  their  revenge,  and  on  the 
slightest  provocation,  or  imaginary  insult,  will  commit  mur- 
der. They  are  indeed  a  scourge  to  the  people  they  come 
among.  When  bent  on  revenge,  or  irritated  at  some  sup- 
posed insult,  they  scarcely  ever  fail  of  wreaking  their  ven- 
geance. Many  shocking  murders  have  been  committed  by 
the  Malay  slaves  on  their  masters  and  mistresses,  not  for 
the  purpose  of  robbing,  but  merely  to  gratify  their  thirst 
of  revenge,  which  nothing  but  the  blood  of  their  object 
will  satisfy,  though  at  the  certain  loss  of  their  own  lives. 


232  THE    MUSEUM. 

When  the  Malay  has  determined  on  revenge,  he  takes  a 
quantity  of  opium  to  work  himself  up  to  a  state  of  mad- 
ness, he  then  rushes  out  with  a  knife  or  dagger,  which  is 
called  a  creese,  and  after  putting  to  death  the  original  of  his 
infernal  passion,  he  next  rushes  at  every  one  he  meets,  till 
he  is  overpowered  and  taken,  which  perhaps  is  not  the  case 
till  several  victims  fall  before  him.  Nothing  but  a  lucky 
shot  or  blow,  that  stuns  him  to  the  earth,  will  ensure  the 
safety  of  his  opponent,  as  he  proceeds  with  such  a  savage 
fierceness  and  impetuosity,  that  it  is  reckoned  a  most  ardu- 
ous and  dangerous  service  to  encounter  him  in  this  state. 
This  is  what  is  called  "  running  a  muck ;"  on  the  slightest 
alarm  on  wrhich  every  one  flies  before  him,  and  escapes  the 
best  way  he  can.  Whoever  kills  a  Malay  in  the  act  of 
running  a  muck,  is  entitled  to  a  very  high  reward  from 
government ;  and  he  certainly  deserves  it,  for  the  most 
cool  and  intrepid  are  scarcely  a  match  for  the  Malay,  when 
worked  to  this  pitch  of  desperate  madness. 

The  two  following  instances  occurred  while  I  was  at 
Cape  Town  : — "  A  Malay,  for  some  insult  or  necessary 
chastisement  received  from  his  master,  drew  a  knife  and 
stabbed  him  to  the  heart,  and  immediately  ran  into  the 
streets  with  the  weapon  wreaking  with  the  blood  of  his 
unfortunate  victim.  The  first  person  he  met  was  a  very 
fine  slave  girl,  about  seventeen  years  old,  into  whose  face 
he  darted  the  weapon.  Fortunately  a  country  farmer  was 
at  that  moment  passing  Strand  street,  where  it  happened, 
and  having  a  gun  loaded  in  the  wagon  he  was  driving,  fired, 
and  killed  the  Malay  on  the  spot.  If  this  shot  had  not 
succeeded  in  bringing  him  down,  I,  and  a  brother  officer, 
who  came  to  the  spot  a  few  moments  after,  would  in  all 
probability  have  been  the  next  victims.  The  poor  slave  girl 
died  in  a  few  hours  after.  This  was  the  second  time  that 
a  slave  of  the  Malay  race,  running  a  muck,  was  prevented 
from  falling  in  with  me.  Once,  indeed,  at  Ponarnola,  in  the 
East  Indies,  I  very  narrowly  escaped,  having  been  slightly 
wounded  in  the  arm  by  a  Malay  who  had  attacked  some 
Sepoys :  and  if  I  had  not  been  fortunate  enough  to  give 
him  at  the  first  cut  so  severe  a  wound  as  to  disable  him, 
he  would  certainly  have  put  me  to  death.  The  creese  he 
struck  me  with  was  poisoned,  and  my  arm  in  consequence 


TKt    JMUShUM. 

swelled  to  a  very  great  degree,  and  for  some  time  it  was 
thought  I  must  have  lost  it,  if  not  my  life.  I  must  here  re- 
mark, that  I  received  the  greatest  benefit  from  the  Eau  de 
Luce,  which  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  is  a  valuable 
antidote  against  poison  ;  it  has  been  found  to  prevent  the 
fatal  effects  from  the  most  venomous  bites  of  snakes. 

"  Another  instance  of  the  barbarity  of  the  race  of  slaves, 
which  happened  at  the  Cape  while  I  was  there,  occurred 
in  a  Malay,  who,  on  being  refused  leave  by  his  master  to 
go  to  a  festival,  stabbed  him  to  the  heart  with  a  knife ; 
then  went  to  his  mistress,  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  com- 
mitted on  her  the  same  barbarous  act.  An  old  Malabar 
slave,  who  was  cutting  wood  before  the  door,  having  ob- 
served him  perpetrate  these  horrid  murders,  watched  the 
opportunity,  as  he  rushed  out  of  the  door,  and  striking  him 
on  the  head  with  his  axe,  killed  him  on  the  spot.  The 
government  was  generous  enough  to  reward  the  Malabar 
slave  with  his  liberty,  and  one  hundred  dollars  in  money." 

The  following  dreadful  circumstances  occurred  in  the 
month  of  February,  1759,  in  the  island  of  St.  Eustatia. 
"  A  negro,  who  was  at  work  in  a  ship  in  the  harbor,  having 
had  some  words  with  a  white  person,  in  his  passion  stab- 
bed him  :  upon  which  another  negro  told  him,  that  he 
would  certainly  be  put  to  death  ;  and  that  if  he  had  killed 
twenty,  they  could  do  no  more  to  him.  Thereupon,  the 
fellow,  in  a  fit  of  desperation,  immediately  jumped  over- 
board, and  swam  to  shore,  with  a  knife  in  his  hand ;  and 
the  first  person  he  met  with  happened  to  be  an  English 
sailor,  whom  the  villain  instantly  cut  across  the  belly,  so 
that  his  bowels  appeared.  This  done,  he  in  a  moment  ran 
into  a  woolen  draper's  shop,  and  stabbed  a  young  fellow 
sitting  behind  the  counter ;  he  then  ran  into  the  street,  and 
wounded  desperately  one  or  two  others.  By  this  time  the 
people  were  greatly  alarmed;  but  the  knife  the  fellow 
had,  being  very  large,  and  he  so  very  desperate,  every  body 
shunned  him.  The  governor  offered  a  reward  to  any  one 
who  would  take  him  alive,  and  a  sailor  undertook  it,  arm- 
ed with  a  musket ;  but,  if  he  found  it  impracticable,  he  was 
to  shoot  him.  The  negro,  who  was  then  at  the  wharf 
side,  alone,  saw  him  coming,  and  met  him  with  great  reso- 
lution :  he  made  an  essay  to  stab  the  sailor,  by  giving  a 

20* 


234  THE    MUSEUM. 

sudden  leap  upon  him,  but  the  tar  avoided  it,  and  struck 
at  him  with  the  butt  end  of  his  musket,  and  broke  his  arm  ; 
upon  which,  with  great  intrepidity,  he  got  his  knife  into 
the  other  hand,  and  made  another  push  at  the  sailor,  but 
with  as  little  success  as  the  former ;  and  by  another  blow, 
he  was,  with  the  assistance  of  some  other  persons  who  had 
gathered  about  him,  secured  alive.  He  was  immediately 
brought  to  trial,  and  condemned  ;  and  next  day  hung  upon 
a  gibbet,  in  irons,  alive,  where  he  continued  in  the  greatest 
agonies,  and  shrieking  in  the  most  terrible  manner,  for  near 
three  days.  His  greatest  cry  was,  "  Water  !  water  !  wa- 
ter !"  being  extremely  hot  weather,  and  the  sun  full  upon 
him. 


THE    ASSASSIN   OF    COLOGNE. 

AN  individual,  accused  of  many  murders,  was  lately  ar- 
rested at  Beul,  a  village  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine, 
opposite  to  Bonn.  He  readily  confessed  three  murders, 
the  recital  of  which  is  enough  to  make  the  heart  shudder. 
The  following  is  an  account  of  the  means  by  which  these 
atrocious  crimes  were  discovered.  An  inhabitant  of  Beul, 
named  Moll,  a  shoemaker,  and  Henry  Ochs,  of  Cologne,  a 
tailor,  had  served  together  in  the  same  company  of  the  28th 
regiment,  and  were  united  in  the  closest  bonds  of  friend- 
ship :  they  returned  to  their  houses  after  some  years'  ser- 
vice, and  resumed  their  former  occupations.  Moll  came 
frequently  to  visit  his  friend  Ochs,  who  was  married  at 
Cologne.  The  young  married  folks  always  received  and 
treated  him  with  much  affection. 

The  judicial  authority  took  cognizance  last  year  of  the 
double  disappearance  of  Moll's  step-mother,  twenty-eight 
years  old,  and  of  his  own  young  brother :  search  was  made 
after  their  persons,  but  in  vain.  Moll,  having  given  rise  to 
some  suspicions,  was  arrested  ;  but  for  \vant  of  sufficient 
proof  was  discharged  from  an  arrest,  after  a  detention  of 
some  months,  and  resumed  his  connections  with  Ochs  as 
before.  The  latter  wishing  to  make  purchases  at  the  fair 
of  Putzyen,  not  far  from  Beul,  held  on  the  8th  of  Septem- 


THE    MUSEUM.  235 

ber,  set  out  on  the  7th,  having  procured  sixty  Prussian 
crowns,  informing  his  wife  that  he  would  take  lodgings  at 
the  house  of  his  friend  Moll.  After  she  had  waited  the  re- 
turn of  her  husband  for  eight  days,  she  began  to  feel  con- 
siderable anxiety,  and  sent  a  confidential  person  to  make 
inquiries  for  him.  This  messenger  arrived  at  Beul,  on  the 
18th,  and  saw  Moll  wearing  the  clothes  and  using  the  pipe 
of  his  friend  Ochs ;  struck  with  these  signs,  he  returned  to 
Bonn,  and  communicated  them  to  the  officers  of  justice. 
The  judge  instructor  instantly  despatched  the  civil  power, 
who,  having  surrounded  Moll's  residence,  proceeded  to 
make  a  domiciliary  visit.  They  presently  discovered  some 
loose  planks  on  the  floor  of  the  work  room,  on  the  raising 
which,  they  perceived  the  extremities  of  mutilated  bones 
sticking  out  from  a  hole  filled  with  earth,  like  those  in 
which  peasants  usually  preserve  their  potatoes.  They  dug 
out  three  bodies  in  succession :  the  first  of  which  was  re- 
cognized as  that  of  the  unfortunate  Ochs.  While  the  offi- 
cers were  busy  in  the  work  of  exhumation,  Moll  escaped 
through  a  window,  and  baffled  the  vigilance  of  the  police 
with  such  caution,  that  they  were  not  able  to  retake  him 
until  about  nine  o'clock  at  night,  when  he  was  discovered 
in  the  middle  of  a  field,  in  which  he  had  laid  down  through 
excessive  fatigue.  He  was  brought  back  to  the  judge's 
office,  where  he  found  before  him  the  three  bodies  exposed 
to  view ;  at  first  he  wished  to  deny  every  thing,  but  the 
impressive  and  ingenious  interrogations  of  the  judge  press- 
ed him  so  closely,  that  he  became  confused  and  inconsistent 
in  his  answers,  and  in  the  end,  the  voice  of  conscience  suc- 
ceeded in  wringing  from  him  the  horrible  confession  of  his 
crimes.  He  then  confessed,  with  a  flood  of  tears,  that 
fifteen  months  ago  he  had  assassinated  his  step-mother. 
He  afterwards  avowed  that  he  had  assassinated  his  own 
brother,  because  he  possessed  the  power  of  revealing  the 
former  deed ;  he  moreover  confessed  the  murder  of  his 
friend  Ochs,  which  he  committed  on  the  night  of  the  7th 
of  September,  1823.  An  inquiry  into  many  other  murders 
now  took  place,  several  of  which  were  attributed  to  this 
monster.  M.  Schiller,  son  to  the  celebrated  poet,  was 
employed  in  conducting  the  investigation  of  this  affair,  and 
the  assassin  was  left  for  execution.  The  inhabitants  of 


236  THE    MUSEUM. 

Beul,  fired  with  detestation  of  the  murderer  Moll,  assem- 
bled before  his  execution,  and  destroyed  his  house,  which 
was  situated  in  an  isolated  spot  at  the  extremity  of  the 
village.  After  they  had  demolished  it  from  roof  to  foun- 
dation, they  collected  the  combustible  materials,  set  them 
on  fire,  and  scattered  the  ashes  to  the  winds.  This  act  of 
simultaneous  indignation  was  performed  in  a  moment,  and 
was  followed  by  no  other  excess. 


MICHAEL    HOWE    THE    BUSH-RANGER. 

MICHAEL  HOWE  was  the  last  and  the  worst  of  the  Bush- 
Rangers,  and  by  his  depredations,  he  became  the  terror  of 
Van  Dieman's  Land.  The  following  account  of  this  out- 
law is  abridged  from  the  life  of  Howe,  printed  at  Hobart's 
Town,  in  1818,  and  was  the  first  child  of  the  press  of  a 
state  not  fifteen  years  old. 

Michael  Howe  was  born  at  Pontefract,  in  1787,  and 
was  apprenticed  to  a  merchant  vessel  at  Hull :  but  "  he 
showed  his  indentures  a  fair  pair  of  heels,"  (as  Prince 
Henry  says,)  and  entered  on  board  a  man  of  war,  from 
which  he  got  away  as  he  could.  He  was  tried  at  York 
in  1811,  for  a  highway  robbery,  and  sentenced  to  seven 
years  transportation.  He  arrived  in  Van  Dieman's  Land 
in  1812,  and  was  assigned  by  the  government  as  a  servant 
to  a  settler ;  from  this  service  he  absconded  into  the  woods, 
and  joined  a  party  of  twenty-eight  bush-rangers,  as  they 
are  called.  In  this  profession  he  lived  six  years  of  plunder 
and  cruelty,  during  which,  he  appears  to  have  twice  sur- 
rendered himself  to  justice,  under  proclamations  of  pardon, 
but  was  both  times  unaccountably  suffered  to  escape  again 
to  the  woods.  It  is  reproachful  to  the  government  of  the 
colony,  to  think  that  it  was  after  the  second  of  these  flights 
from  justice,  or  at  least  from  confinement,  that  he  commit- 
ted murder  on  two  men,  who  had,  as  they  thought,  secured 
him.  By  this  means  he  again  escaped,  to  be  shot  at  last 
by  a  private  soldier  of  the  48th  regiment,  and  another 
man  :  for  so  desperate  was  this  villain,  that  he  was  only  to 
be  taken  dead  and  by  stratagem. 


THE     MUSEUM.  237 

Howe  was  without  a  spark  of  even  the  honor  of  an  out- 
law ;  he  betrayed  his  colleagues  upon  surrendering  himself 
to  government,  and  he  fired  upon  a  native  girl,  his  com- 
panion, when  she  became  an  impediment  to  his  flight.  He 
was  reduced  at  last  to  abandonment,  even  by  his  own  gang ; 
and  one  hundred  guineas,  and  (if  a  convict  should  take 
him)  a  free  pardon  and  a  passage  to  England,  were  set 
upon  his  head.  He  was  now  a  wretched,  conscience- 
hunted  solitary,  hiding  in  dingles,  and  only  tracked  by  the 
sagacity  of  the  native  girl  to  whom  he  had  behaved  so  un- 
gratefully, and  who  was  now  employed  by  the  police  to 
revenge  his  cruelty  to  her.  His  arms,  ammunition,  dogs, 
and  knapsack,  were  first  taken  from  him ;  and  in  the  last 
was  found  a  little  memorandum  book  of  kangaroo  skin, 
written  by  himself  in  kangaroo  blood.  It  contained  a  sort 
of  journal  of  his  dreams,  which  showed  strongly  the  wretch- 
ed state  of  his  mind,  and  some  tincture  of  superstition.  It 
appears  that  he  frequently  dreamt  of  being  murdered  by 
the  natives,  of  seeing  his  old  companions,  of  being  nearly 
taken  by  a  soldier ;  and  in  one  instance  only,  humanity 
asserts  itself  even  in  the  breast  of  Michael  Howe,  for  we 
find  him  recording  that  he  dreamt  of  his  sister.  It  also 
appears  from  this  little  book,  that  he  had  once  an  idea  of 
settling  in  the  woods,  for  it  contained  long  lists  of  such 
seeds  as  he  wished  to  have,  vegetables,  fruits  and  even 
flowers. 

These  bush-rangers  are  now  exterminated,  and  the 
colony  on  which  they  were  a  heavy  drawback,  is  conse- 
quently rapidly  advancing  in  numbers  and  in  civilization. 


THE    SOLITARY    SOVEREIGN. 

SOME  years  ago,  there  was  stationed  on  the  island  of 
Ratoneau,  (the  center  of  three  islands  on  the  coast  of  Mar- 
seilles, and  the  most  deserted  of  the  three,)  an  invalid  of 
the  name  of  Francosur,  who,  with  his  wife  and  daughter, 
and  another  invalid,  composed  the  whole  population  of  the 
island.  Francosur  had  been  once  deranged  in  his  mind, 
and  confined  in  the  Hotel  de  St.  Lazare,  near  Marseilles, 


238  THE    MUSEUM. 

a  hospital  for  the  reception  of  lunatics ;  but,  after  a  time, 
was  discharged  as  perfectly  cured.  His  comrade  and  his 
wife,  however,  perceiving  that  he  began  to  show  symptoms 
of  derangement,  sent  information  of  it  to  the  Governor- 
general  of  the  three  islands,  who  resided  on  one  of  them, 
named  the  Chateau  d'If.  The  governor,  not  choosing  to 
attempt  seizing  Francosur  singly,  for  fear  of  incensing  him, 
sent  an  order  for  the  whole  party  to  appear  before  him, 
hoping,  in  this  way,  to  get  the  lunatic  quietly  and  without 
difficulty  into  his  power.  Francceur  prepared  with  the 
rest  to  obey  the  summons  ;  but,  at  the  moment  of  their 
embarking,  when  the  other  invalid  was  already  in  the  boat, 
being  seized  with  a  sudden  phrenzy,  he  attempted  to  stab, 
first  his  wife,  and  then  his  daughter.  They  both  escaped 
by  jumping  nastily  into  the  boat ;  when,  pushing  off  before 
he  had  time  to  follow  them,  and  hastening  away  to  the 
Chateau  d'If,  they  left  him  alone  on  the  island. 

His  first  movement,  on  finding  himself  without  control, 
was  to  take  possession  of  a  small  fort  where  two  or  three 
guns  were  mounted,  with  a  little  powder  and  ball ;  and 
shutting  himself  up  in  it,  he  began  a  cannonade  upon  the 
governor's  house,  which  did  some  damage.  The  governor 
on  this  sent  a  boat  with  five  invalids  of  his  own  garrison, 
bearing  an  order  to  Francoeur  to  appear  before  him ;  but 
the  latter,  shut  up  in  his  fort,  told  those  who  brought  the 
summons  to  carry  back  this  answer :  "  That  his  father  was 
governor  of  the  island  of  Ratoneau,  and  being  his  sole 
heir,  the  right  of  domain  there  had  devolved  entirely  on 
him,  nor  would  he  yield  it  up  while  a  drop  of  blood  re- 
mained in  his  veins."  He  immediately  fired  on  the  men, 
who,  not  being  amused  with  the  joke,  hastily  withdrew. 
Francoeur  then  began  a  second  cannonade  on  the  govern- 
or's chateau ;  but,  after  firing  a  few  shots,  he  was  diverted 
from  this  object  by  perceiving  a  vessel  in  the  bay  within 
gunshot,  to  which  his  battery  was  now  directed.  The  cap- 
tain, greatly  surprised  at  finding  himself  treated  in  this  in- 
hospitable manner,  sent  to  inquire  the  reason  of  it,  when 
my  lord  governor  replied,  that  he  wanted  a  supply  of  bis- 
cuit and  wine,  and  if  they  were  not  sent  immediately,  he 
would  sink  the  vessel.  The  captain,  glad  to  compromise 
matters  so  easily,  sent  the  supplies  required,  the  weather 


THE     MUSEUM.  239 

being  such  that  he  could  not  stand  out  to  sea  at  the  mo- 
ment ;  but  as  soon  as  it  was  in  his  power,  he  hastened  to 
remove  from  so  disagreeable  a  neighbor.  Three  or  four 
other  vessels  which  had  the  presumption  to  approach  with- 
in reach  of  my  lord  governor's  guns,  were,  in  like  manner, 
laid  under  contribution  ;  nor  were  the  fishermen  spared, 
but  were  obliged  to  furnish  their  quota  towards  the  supply 
of  his  lordship's  table. 

The  governor  of  the  Chateau  d'lf,  still  unwilling  to  sacri- 
fice the  life  of  the  unfortunate  lunatic,  sent  a  second  party 
from  his  garrison,  with  orders  to  seize  him,  under  pretence 
of  demanding  a  conference  ;  but  either  from  having  taken 
their  measures  ill,  or  from  cowardice,  they  were  obliged  to 
return  without  accomplishing  their  purpose.  Extremely 
embarrassed  how  to  proceed  with  a  man,  who,  though  not 
accountable  for  his  actions,  was  in  a  situation  where  he 
might  do  mischief,  the  governor  of  the  Chateau  d'lf  sent 
to  the  Duke  de  Villars,  who,  as  governor  of  Provence, 
was  then  at  Marseilles,  to  consult  him  what  was  to  be  done. 
The  Duke  immediately  despatched  a  party  of  five  and 
twenty  grenadiers,  with  a  sergeant  at  their  head,  who  had 
orders  to  land  in  the  night,  and  get  possession  of  the  fort 
by  means  of  scaling  ladders,  while  the  governor  was  asleep. 
This  was  done  accordingly,  and  his  lordship  was  extremely 
surprised,  when  he  awoke  in  the  morning,  to  find  himself 
surrounded  by  an  armed  force.  Perceiving  that  resist- 
ance was  impossible,  he  said  that  he  was  very  ready  to 
surrender  to  the  Duke  de  Villars,  on  honorable  terms,  but 
that  on  no  account  would  he  enter  into  any  negotiation 
with  the  governor  of  the  Chateau  d'lf.  The  terms  he  pro- 
posed were,  that,  for  the  accommodation  of  his  sovereign, 
he  would  consent  to  exchange  his  government  of  the  island 
of  Ratoneau  for  that  of  the  house  of  St.  Lazare,  .whither 
he  had  sense  enough  to  perceive  he  should  be  reconducted ; 
but  he  insisted  on  being  permitted  to  march  out  of  the  fort 
with  honors  of  war,  and  an  instrument  drawn  up  in  the 
proper  form,  which  should  confirm  to  himself  and  his  heirs 
for  ever  the  government  of  St.  Lazare  ;  while  it  contained 
his  renunciation  of  all  his  rights  to  the  island  of  Ratoneau. 

A  promise  was  made  that  these  stipulations  should  be 
faithfully  fulfilled  ;  when,  shouldering  a  musket,  he  marched 


240  THE    MUSEUM. 

out  of  the  fort  with  great  solemnity,  and  there  grounding 
it,  walked  on  quietly  to  the  boat.  Thus  ended  his  sove- 
reignity  of  three  days  over  an  island  without  subjects. 

Miss  Plumptie. 


SPANISH    FIDELITY. 

TOWARDS  the  latter  end  of  the  reign  of  King  Edward 
the  Third,  lived  two  valiant  squires,  Robert  Haule,  and 
Richard  Schakel,  who,  in  the  wars  under  the  Black  Prince, 
had  taken  prisoner  the  Count  de  Dena,  a  Spanish  don  of 
great  quality,  and  brought  him  to  England.  Some  time 
after  he  left  his  eldest  son  as  a  pledge,  while  he  went  home 
to  raise  his  ransom ;  but  being  got  to  Spain  he  neglected 
to  send  the  money,  and  in  a  little  time  he  died,  whereby 
his  honors  and  estate  devolved  to  the  young  hostage. 
This  being  communicated  to  king  Edward,  both  he  and  the 
prince  were  very  importunate  with  the  two  gentlemen  to 
release  the  Spanish  cavalier ;  but  they  were  so  far  from 
parting  with  him,  that  they  refused  to  discover  where  he 
was ;  for  which  they  were  sent  to  the  Tower,  from  whence 
escaping,  they  took  sanctuary  in  Westminster  Abbey. 
The  duke  of  Lancaster  being  resolved  to  ferret  them  out, 
sent  fifty  armed  men,  who  entered  the  church,  put  a  trick 
upon  Schakel,  got  him  away,  and  carried  him  back  to  the 
Tower.  But  as  for  Haule,  he  was  among  the  monks,  and 
at  mass ;  the  soldiers  went  to  him,  and  at  first  expostulated 
with  him,  why  he  should  so  obstinately  disobey  the  king's 
command,  and  withal  told  him  that  he  must  go  with  them, 
which  he  peremptorily  refused,  drew  a  short  sword,  and 
made  at  them,  but  although  he  performed  wonders,  he  was 
at  last  slain.  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  thundered  out 
an  excommunication  against  these  violators  of  the  sanctu- 
ary and  all  their  abettors,  the  king,  his  mother,  and  the  duke 
of  Lancaster,  excepted.  But  about  a  year  after,  in  Rich- 
ard the  Second's  reign,  through  the  mediation  of  some 
grave  and  venerable  persons,  the  matter  was  accommo- 
dated on  these  terms :  that  the  said  Schakel,  who  was  sent 
to  the  Tower,  should  discover  and  deliver  up  the  Count 


THE    MUSET7M.  241 

de  Dena,  and  so  be  set  at  liberty,  and  the  king  to  settle  on 
him  lands,  to  the  value  of  one  hundred  marks  per  annum, 
and  pay  him  down  five  hundred  marks  ready  money,  in 
lieu  of  the  expected  ransom,  and  also  that  his  majesty,  for 
satisfaction  to  the  church,  should  at  his  own  proper  charges, 
erect  a  chauntery  of  five  priests  forever,  to  pray  for  the 
soul  of  Robert  Haule,  whom  his  officers  had  slain.  But 
now  comes  the  most  surprising  part  of  the  story :  when 
Schakel  was  on  the  point  to  produce  his  captive,  he  showed 
them  his  servant  who  waited  on  him,  for  the  gallant  Span- 
iard observed  such  a  regard  to  his  word,  that  he  scorned 
to  discover  himself  without  his  leave,  but  on  the  contrary, 
had  all  along,  both  in  the  sanctuary,  and  in  the  Tower, 
faithfully  and  submissively  served  him  in  disguise,  neglect- 
ing both  his  quality  and  interest,  when  they  stood  in  com- 
petition with  his  honor. 


VIRTUE    REWARDED. 

IN  the  year  1713,  the  Czar,  Peter  of  Russia,  was  smitten 
with  the  charms  of  a  beautiful  young  lady,  the  daughter  of 
a  foreign  merchant  in  Moscow :  he  first  saw  her  in  her 
father's  house,  where  he  dined  one  day.  He  was  so  much 
taken  with  her  appearance,  that  he  offered  her  any  terms 
she  pleased,  if  she  would  live  with  him ;  which  this  virtu- 
ous young  woman  modestly  refused,  but  dreading  the  ef- 
fects of  his  authority,  she  left  Moscow  in  the  night,  without 
communicating  her  design  even  to  her  parents.  Having 
provided  a  little  money  for  her  support,  she  travelled  on 
foot  several  miles  into  the  country,  till  she  arrived  at  a 
small  village  where  her  nurse  lived  with  her  husband  and 
their  daughter,  the  young  lady's  foster-sister,  to  whom  she 
discovered  her  intention  of  concealing  herself  in  the  wood 
near  that  village  ;  and  to  prevent  any  discovery,  she  set 
out  the  same  night,  accompanied  by  the  husband  and 
daughter.  The  husband  being  a  timber-man  by  trade, 
and  well  acquainted  with  the  wood,  conducted  her  to  a 
little  dry  spot  in  the  middle  of  the  morass,  and  there  he 
built  a  hut  for  her  habitation.  She  had  deposited  her 

21 


242  THE    MUSEUM. 

money  with  her  nurse,  to  procure  little  necessaries  for  hei 
support,  which  were  faithfully  conveyed  to  her  at  night  by 
the  nurse  or  her  daughter,  by  one  of  whom  she  was  con- 
stantly attended  in  the  night  time. 

The  next  day  after  her  flight,  the  Czar  called  at  her 
father's  to  see  her,  but  finding  the  parents  in  anxious  con- 
cern for  their  daughter,  and  himself  disappointed,  fancied 
it  a  plan  of  their  own  concerting.  He  became  angry,  and 
began  to  threaten  them  with  the  effects  of  his  displeasure 
if  she  was  not  produced  :  nothing  was  left  to  the  parents 
but  the  most  solemn  protestations  with  tears  of  real  sorrow 
running  down  their  cheeks,  to  convince  him  of  their  inno- 
cence and  ignorance  of  what  was  become  of  her,  assuring 
him  of  their  fears  that  some  fatal  disaster  must  have  be 
fallen  her,  as  nothing  belonging  to  her  was  missing,  except 
what  she  had  on  at  the  time.  The  Czar,  satisfied  of  their 
sincerity,  ordered  great  search  to  be  made  for  her,  with 
the  offer  of  a  considerable  reward  to  the  person  who  should 
discover  what  was  become  of  her,  but  to  no  purpose :  the 
parents  and  relations,  apprehending  she  was  no  more,  went 
into  mourning  for  her. 

About  a  year  after  this  she  was  discovered  by  accident. 
A  Colonel  who  had  come  from  the  army  to  see  his  friends, 
going  a  hunting  into  that  wood,  and  following  his  game 
through  the  morass,  came  to  the  hut,  and  looking  into  it, 
saw  a  pretty  young  woman  in  a  mean  dress.  After  in- 
quiring of  her  who  she  was,  and  how  she  came  to  live  in 
so  solitary  a  place,  he  found  out  at  last  that  she  was  the 
lady  whose  disappearance  had  made  so  great  a  noise ;  in 
the  utmost  confusion,  and  with  the  most  fervent  entreaties, 
she  prayed  him  on  her  knees  that  he  would  not  betray 
her ;  to  which  he  replied,  that  he  thought  her  danger  was 
now  past,  as  the  Czar  was  then  otherwise  engaged,  and 
that  she  might  with  safety  discover  herself,  at  least,  to  her 
parents,  with  whom  he  would  consult  how  matters  should 
be  managed.  The  lady  agreed  to  his  proposal,  and  he  set 
out  immediately  and  overjoyed  her  parents  with  the  happy 
discovery.  The  issue  of  their  deliberations  was  to  consult 
Madame  Catharine,  as  she  was  then  called,  in  what  man- 
ner the  affair  should  be  opened  to  the  Czar.  The  Colonel 
went  also  upon  this  business,  and  was  advised  by  Madame 


THE    MTTSEUM.  243 

to  come  next  morning,  when  she  would  introduce  him  to 
his  Majesty,  when  he  might  make  the  discovery,  and  claim 
the  promised  reward.  He  went,  according  to  appoint- 
ment, and  being  introduced,  told  the  accident  by  which  he 
had  discovered  the  lady,  and  represented  the  miserable 
situation  in  which  he  found  her,  and  what  she  must  have 
suffered  by  being  so  long  shut  up  in  such  a  dismal  place, 
from  the  delicacy  of  her  sex.  The  Czar  showed  a  good 
deal  of  concern  that  he  should  have  been  the  cause  of  all 
her  sufferings,  declaring  that  he  would  endeavor  to  make 
her  amends.  Here  Madame  Catharine  suggested,  that  she 
thought  the  best  amends  his  Majesty  could  make,  was,  to 
give  her  a  handsome  fortune  and  the  Colonel  for  a  hus- 
band, who  had  the  best  right,  having  caught  her  in  pursuit 
of  his  game.  The  Czar  agreeing  perfectly  with  Madame 
Catharine's  sentiments,  ordered  one  of  his  favorites  to  go 
with  the  Colonel,  and  bring  the  young  lady  home ;  where 
she  arrived,  to  the  inexpressible  joy  of  her  family  and  re- 
lations, who  had  all  been  in  mourning  for  her.  The  mar- 
riage was  under  the  direction,  and  at  the  expense  of  the 
Czar,  who  himself  gave  the  bride  to  the  bridegroom  ;  say- 
ing, that  he  presented  him  with  one  of  the  most  virtuous 
of  women ;  and  accompanied  his  declaration  with  very 
valuable  presents,  besides  settling  on  her  and  her  heirs, 
three  thousand  rubles  a  year.  This  lady  lived  highly 
esteemed  by  the  Czar,  and  every  one  who  knew  her. 


CAUTION  TO  TRAVELLERS  CARRYING  MONEY  ON  A  JOURNEY. 

JONATHAN  BRADFORD  kept  an  inn  on  the  London  road 
to  Oxford  in  the  year  1736.  Mr.  Hayes,  a  gentleman  of 
fortune,  being  on  his  way  to  Oxford,  put  up  at  Bradford's ; 
and  there  joined  company  with  two  gentlemen  with  whom 
he  supped.  In  conversation,  he  unguardedly  mentioned 
that  he  had  then  about  him  a  large  sum  of  money.  In  due 
time  they  retired  to  their  respective  chambers ;  the  two 
gentlemen  to  a  two-bedded  room,  leaving  a  candle  burning 
in  the  chimney  corner.  Some  hours  after  they  were  in 
bed,  one  of  the  gentlemen  being  awake,  thought  he  heard 


244  THE    MUSEUM. 

a  deep  groan  in  the  adjoining  chamber,  and  this  being  re 
peated,  he  softly  awaked  his  friend.  They  listened  togeth 
er,  and  the  groans  increasing,  as  of  one  dying,  they  both 
instantly  arose,  and  proceeded  silently  to  the  door  of  the 
next  chamber,  from  whence  they  heard  the  groans ;  and 
the  door  being  ajar,  saw  a  light  in  the  room  ;  they  entered, 
but  it  is  impossible  to  paint  their  consternation,  on  per- 
ceiving a  person  weltering  in  his  blood  in  the  bed,  and  a 
man  standing  over  him,  with  a  dark  lantern  in  one  hand, 
and  a  knife  in  the  other.  The  man  seemed  as  petrified  as 
themselves,  but  his  terror  carried  with  it  all  the  terror  of 
guilt !  The  gentlemen  soon  discovered  the  person  was  the 
stranger  with  whom  they  had  that  night  supped,  and  that 
the  man  who  was  standing  over  him  was  their  host.  They 
seized  Bradford  directly,  disarmed  him  of  his  knife,  and 
charged  him  with  being  the  murderer.  He  assumed  by 
this  time  the  air  of  innocence,  positively  denied  the  crime, 
and  asserted  that  he  came  there  with  the  same  humane 
intentions  as  themselves ;  for  that,  hearing  a  noise,  which 
was  succeeded  by  a  groaning,  he  got  out  of  bed,  struck  a 
light,  armed  himself  with  a  knife  for  his  defence,  and  had 
but  that  minute  entered  the  room  before  them. 

These  assertions  were  of  little  avail ;  he  was  kept  in 
close  custody  till  the  morning,  and  then  taken  before  a 
neighboring  justice  of  the  peace  Bradford  still  denied  the 
murder,  but  nevertheless,  with  such  an  apparent  indication 
of  guilt,  that  the  justice  hesitated  not  to  make  use  of  this  ex- 
traordinary expression,  on  writing  out  his  mittimus,  "  Mr. 
Bradford,  either  you  or  myself  committed  this  murder." 

This  extraordinary  affair  was  the  conversation  of  the 
whole  county.  Bradford  was  tried  and  condemned  over 
and  over  again,  in  every  company.  In  the  midst  of  all  this 
predetermination  came  on  the  assizes  at  Oxford.  Brad- 
ford was  brought  to  trial  — he  pleaded  not  guilty.  Nothing 
could  be  more  strong  than  the  evidence  of  the  two  gentle- 
men :  they  testified  to  the  finding  Mr.  Hayes  murdered  in 
his  bed  ;  Bradford  at  the  side  of  the  body  with  a  light  and 
a  knife  ;  the  knife,  and  the  hand  which  held  it  bloody ;  that 
on  entering  the  room  he  betrayed  all  the  signs  of  a  guilty 
man,  and  that  a  few  moments  preceding,  they  had  heard 
the  groans  of  the  deceased. 


THE    MUSEUM.  245 

Bradford's  defence  on  his  trial  was  the  same  as  before 
the  gentlemen.  He  had  heard  a  noise ;  suspected  some 
villainy  transacting ;  he  struck  a  light, — he  snatched  a  knife, 
(the  only  weapon  near  him,)  to  defend  himself;  and  the 
terrors  he  discovered  were  merely  the  terrors  of  human- 
ity, the  natural  effects  of  innocence  as  well  as  guilt,  on  be- 
holding such  a  horrid  scene. 

This  defence,  however,  could  be  considered  but  as  weak, 
contrasted  with  several  powerful  circumstances  against 
him.  Never  was  circumstantial  evidence  more  strong. 
There  was  little  need  of  comment  from  the  judge  in  sum- 
ming up  the  evidence.  No  room  appeared  for  extenua- 
tion !  and  the  jury  brought  in  the  prisoner  guilty,  even 
without  going  out  of  the  box.  Bradford  was  executed 
shortly  after,  still  declaring  he  was  not  the  murderer,  nor 
privy  to  the  murder  of  Mr.  Hayes,  but  he  died  disbelieved 
by  all. 

Yet  were  those  assertions  not  untrue  !  The  murder  was 
actually  committed  by  Mr.  Hayes'  footman  ;  who,  immedi- 
ately on  stabbing  his  master,  rifled  his  breeches  of  his  money, 
gold  watch  and  snuff-box,  and  escaped  to  his  own  room ; 
which  could  have  been,  from  the  after  circumstances, 
scarcely  two  seconds  before  Bradford's  entering  the  unfor- 
tunate gentleman's  chamber.  The  world  owes  this  know- 
ledge to  a  remorse  of  conscience  in  the  footman,  (eighteen 
months  after  the  execution  of  Bradford,)  on  a  bed  of  sick- 
ness ;  it  was  a  death-bed  repentance,  and  by  that  death  the 
law  lost  its  victim. 

It  is  much  to  be  wished  that  this  account  could  close 
here  ;  but  it  cannot.  Bradford,  though  innocent,  and  not 
privy  to  the  murder,  was,  nevertheless,  the  murderer  in 
design.  He  had  heard,  as  well  as  the  footman,  what  Mr. 
Hayes  had  declared  at  supper,  as  to  his  having  a  large  sum 
of  money  about  him,  and  he  went  to  the  chamber  with  the 
same  diabolical  intentions  as  the  servant.  He  was  struck 
with  amazement ! — he  could  not  believe  his  senses  ! — and 
in  turning  back  the  bed  clothes,  to  assure  himself  of  the  fact, 
he  in  his  agitation,  dropped  his  knife  on  th  ;  bleeding  body, 
by  which  both  his  hand  and  the  knife  became  bloody. 
These  circumstances  Bradford  acknou  ledged  to  the  cler- 
gyman who  attended  him  after  his  sentence. 

21* 


246  THE    MUSEUM. 


COMBATS   WITH   WILD    BEASTS. 

JEAN  ALBERT  DE  MANDELSLO,  a  native  of  Holstein,  who 
travelled  in  the  east  about  the  years  1638-9,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  some  combats  between  wild  beasts  ex- 
hibited before  the  Grand  Mogul,  on  his  son's  birth-day. 

This  monarch  first  made  a  savage  bull  fight  a  lion ;  and 
then  ordered  a  battle  between  a  lion  and  tiger.  As  soon 
as  the  tiger  perceived  the  lion,  he  went  directly  to  him,  and 
struggling  with  all  his  might,  overthrew  him.  Every  one 
thought  the  tiger  would  have  little  trouble  in  killing  his 
adversary  ;  but  the  lion  rose  immediately,  and  seized  the 
tiger  so  forcibly  by  the  throat,  that  it  was  believed  he  was 
dead.  He  disengaged  himself,  however,  and  the  combat 
was  renewed  with  as  much  fury  as  ever,  until  fatigue 
separated  them.  They  were  both  wounded,  but  not  mor- 
tally. 

After  this  combat,  Alia  Merdy  Khan,  governor  of  Ca- 
chemir,  who  was  near  the  king's  person,  stepped  forward, 
and  said,  that  Shah  Choram  (the  Mogul)  wished  to  see  if 
there  was  a  person  bold  enough  among  his  subjects  to  face 
one  of  these  beasts  with  the  scimetar  and  small  round 
shield  (rondache)  alone :  and  that  any  one  who  had  the 
courage  to  make  the  experiment  might  declare  himself,  so 
that  the  Great  Mogul  having  witnessed  proofs  of  his  cou- 
rage, force  and  address,  might  reward  him,  by  not  only 
honoring  him  with  his  favor,  but  likewise  with  the  rank  of 
Khan.  Upon  this,  three  Hindoos  offered  themselves  ;  and 
Alia  Merdy  Khan  repeated  that  the  king's  intention  was, 
that  the  battle  should  be  fought  with  the  scimetar  and 
shield  alone,  and  that  those  who  had  coats  of  mail  must 
take  them  off,  so  that  the  contest  might  be  fair. 

A  furious  lion  was  immediately  let  out,  which  seeing  his 
enemy  enter,  ran  directly  at  him.  The  Hindoo  defended 
himself  valiantly,  until  being  unable  longer  to  sustain  the 
weight  of  the  animal,  which  chiefly  fell  upon  his  right  arm, 
he  began  to  lower  the  shield,  which  the  lion  tried  to  tear 
from  him,  while  with  the  left  paw  he  seized  upon  the  right 
arm  of  his  enemy,  intending  to  leap  upon  his  throat ;  when 
the  man  applying  his  left  hand  to  a  dagger  which  he  had 


THE    MUSEUM.  247 

concealed  in  his  girdle,  he  buried  it  in  the  lion's  gullet,  who 
was  obliged  to  let  go  his  hold  and  retire.  The  man  fol- 
lowed him,  cut  him  down  with  a  blow  of  his  scimetar, 
killed  him,  and  cut  him  in  pieces. 

The  people  at  first  shouted  a  victory ;  but  as  soon  as  the 
clamors  subsided,  the  Mogul,  directing  the  Hindoo  to  ap- 
proach said  to  him  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  "  I  must  allow  you 
are  a  brave  fellow,  and  that  you  fought  boldly.  But  did 
I  not  forbid  you  to  take  any  unfair  advantage,  and  did  I  not 
prescribe  the  weapons  to  be  employed  ?  Nevertheless, 
you  have  used  others,  and  have  overcome  rny  lion  disho- 
norably :  you  surprised  him  with  secret  weapons, — you 
killed  him  like  an  assassin,  not  like  an  open  enemy." 
Hereupon  he  commanded  two  men  to  descend  into  the 
area  and  rip  up  his  belly,  which  was  done,  and  the  body 
was  placed  upon  an  elephant,  to  be  led  through  the  city 
by  the  way  of  example. 

The  second  Hindoo  who  appeared  upon  the  theatre 
after  this  bloody  tragedy,  advanced  with  great  spirit  to- 
wards the  tiger,  which  they  let  out  against  him,  so  that  to 
look  at  his  face  one  might  be  assured  that  the  victory  was 
certain ;  but  the  tiger  more  active  than  he  was,  leaped  in 
a  moment  upon  his  neck,  killed  him,  and  tore  him  to  pieces. 

The  third  Hindoo,  far  from  being  terrified  at  the  wretch- 
ed fate  of  his  two  companions,  gaily  entered  the  area,  and 
went  straight  to  the  tiger,  who,  heated  with  the  former 
combat,  advanced  to  the  man,  intending  to  strike  him  down 
at  the  first  blow ;  but  the  Hindoo,  though  small  and  of  bad 
figure,  cut  his  two  fore  paws  with  a  single  stroke,  and  hav- 
ing thus  disabled  him,  killed  him  at  his  leisure. 

The  king  ordered  the  man  to  come  near  him,  and  in- 
quired his  name.  He  answered  that  it  was  Geily.  At  the 
same  moment  an  officer  approached  him  with  a  vest  of 
brocade,  which  he  presented  to  him  on  behalf  of  the  Mo- 
gul, saying,  "  Geily  take  this  vest  from  my  hands  as  a  mark 
of  the  king's  favor."  Geily,  making  three  low  reverences, 
and  lifting  the  vest  in  the  air,  loudly  exclaimed,  after  a 
short  prayer,  "  God  grant  that  the  glory  of  the  Great  Mo- 
gul may  equal  that  of  Tamerlane  from  whom  he  sprang," 
&c.  Two  eunuchs  conducted  him  to  the  king's  chamber, 
at  the  entrance  of  which  two  Khans  led  him  between  them 


248  THE    MUSEUM. 

to  the  king's  feet,  who  addressed  him  as  Geily  Khan,  and 
gave  him  the  stipulated  rank,  and  promised  to  be  his  friend. 
Wretched,  indeed,  must  have  been  the  condition  of  a  peo- 
ple subjected  to  the  caprices  of  such  a  thoughtless,  brutal 
tyrant,  as  this  Shah  Choram. 


INHUMAN    PROSECUTION    OF    MONSIEUR    D  ANGLADE    AND  HIS 
FAMILY. 

THE  Count  of  Montgomery  rented  a  part  of  a  hotel  in 
the  Rue  Royale,  at  Paris.  The  ground  floor  and  first  floor 
were  occupied  by  him  ;  the  second  and  third  by  the  Sieur 
d'Anglade.  The  Count  and  the  Countess  de  Montgomery 
had  an  establishment  suited  to  their  rank.  They  kept  an 
almoner,  and  several  male  and  female  servants,  and  their 
horses  and  equipage  were  numerous  in  proportion.  Mon- 
sieur d'Anglade  (who  was  a  gentleman,  though  of  an  in- 
ferior rank  to  the  Count,)  and  his  wife,  lived  with  less 
splendor,  but  yet  with  elegance  and  decency  suitable  to 
their  situation  in  life.  They  had  a  carriage,  and  were  ad- 
mitted into  the  best  companies,  where  probably  M.  d'An- 
glade increased  his  income  by  play ;  but,  on  the  strictest 
inquiry,  it  did  not  appear  that  any  dishonorable  actions 
could  be  imputed  to  him.  The  Count  and  Countess  de 
Montgomery  lived  on  a  footing  of  neighborly  civility  with 
Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Anglade,  and  without  being  very 
intimate,  were  always  on  friendly  terms.  Some  time  in 
September,  1687,  the  Count  and  Countess  proposed  pass- 
ing a  few  days  at  Villebousin,  one  of  their  country  houses. 
They  informed  Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Anglade  of  their 
design,  and  invited  them  to  be  of  the  party.  They  ac- 
cepted it ;  but  the  evening  before  they  were  to  go,  they, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  (probably  because  Madame 
d'Anglade  was  not  very  well,)  begged  leave  to  decline  the 
honor,  and  the  Count  and  Countess  set  out  without  them, 
leaving  in  their  lodgings  one  of  the  Countess'  women,  four 
girls,  whom  she  employed  to  work  for  her  in  embroidery, 
and  a  boy  who  was  kept  to  help  the  footman.  They  took 


THE     MUSEUM.  249 

with  them  the  priest,  Francis  Gagnard,  who  was  their  al- 
moner, and  all  their  other  servants. 

The  Count  pretended  that  a  strange  presentment  of  im- 
pending evil  hung  over  him,  and  determined  him  to  return 
to  Paris  a  day  sooner  than  he  intended.  Certain  it  is,  that 
instead  of  staying  till  Thursday,  as  they  proposed,  they 
carne  back  on  Wednesday  evening.  On  coming  to  their 
hotel  a  few  moments  before  their  servants,  (who  followed 
them  on  horseback,)  they  observed  that  the  door  of  a  room 
on  the  ground  floor,  where  their  men  servants  slept,  was 
ajar,  though  the  almoner,  who  had  always  kept  the  key, 
had  double-locked  it  when  he  went  away.  Monsieur 
d'Anglade,  who  was  out  when  they  came  home,  returned 
to  his  lodgings  about  eleven  o'clock,  bringing  with  him  two 
friends  with  whom  he  supped  at  the  President  Roberts'. 
On  entering,  he  was  told  that  the  Count  and  Countess  were 
returned,  at  which,  it  is  said,  he  appeared  much  surprised. 
However,  he  went  into  the  apartment  where  they  were, 
to  pay  his  compliments.  They  desired  him  to  sit  down, 
and  sent  to  beg  Madame  d'Anglade  would  join  them  ;  she 
did  so,  and  they  passed  some  time  in  conversation,  after 
which  they  parted.  The  next  morning  the  Count  de 
Montgomery  discovered  that  the  lock  of  his  strong  box  had 
been  opened  by  a  false  key,  from  whence  had  been  taken 
thirteen  small  sacks,  each  containing  a  thousand  livres  in 
silver  ;  eleven  thousand  five  hundred  livres  in  gold,  besides 
double  pistoles ;  and  a  hundred  louis  d'ors,  of  a  new  coin- 
age, called  au  cordon ;  together  with  a  pearl  necklace, 
worth  four  thousand  livres. 

The  Count,  as  soon  as  he  made  this  discovery,  went  to 
the  police  and  preferred  his  complaint,  describing  the  sums 
taken  from  him,  and  the  species  in  which  those  sums  were. 
The  lieutenant  of  police  went  directly  to  the  hotel,  where, 
from  circumstances,  it  clearly  appeared  that  the  robbery 
must  have  been  committed  by  some  one  who  belonged  to 
the  house.  Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Anglade  earnestly 
desired  to  have  their  apartments  and  their  servants  ex- 
amined :  and,  from  some  observations  he  then  made,  or 
some  prejudice  he  had  before  entertained  against  Monsieur 
and  Madame  d'Anglade,  the  lieutenant  of  police  seems  to 
have  conceived  the  most  disadvantageous  opinion  of  them, 


250  THE    MUSEUM. 

and  to  have  been  so  far  prepossessed  with  an  idea  of  their 
guilt,  that  he  did  not  sufficiently  investigate  the  looks  and 
the  conduct  of  others.  In  pursuance,  however,  of  their 
desire  to  have  their  rooms  searched,  he  followed  them 
thither,  and  looked  narrowly  into  their  drawers,  closets, 
and  boxes  :  unmade  the  beds,  and  searched  the  mattrasses 
and  the  paillases.  On  the  floor  they  themselves  inhabited, 
nothing  was  found  :  he  then  proposed  ascending  into  the 
attic  story,  to  which  Monsieur  d'Anglade  readily  consent- 
ed. Madame  d'Anglade  excused  herself  from  attending, 
saying  that  she  was  ill  and  weak.  However,  her  husband 
went  up  with  the  officer  of  justice,  and  all  was  readily  sub- 
mitted to  his  inspection.  In  looking  into  an  old  trunk  filled 
with  clothes,  remnants,  and  parchments,  he  found  a  rou- 
leau of  seventy  louis  d'ors  au  cordon,  wrapt  in  printed 
paper,  which  printed  paper  was  a  genealogical  table  which 
the  Count  said  was  his. 

This  seems  to  have  been  the  circumstance,  which  so  far 
confirmed  the  before  groundless  and  slight  suspicions  of 
the  lieutenant  of  the  police,  that  it  occasioned  the  ruin  of 
these  unfortunate  people. 

As  soon  as  these  seventy  louis  were  brought  to  light,  the 
Count  de  Montgomery  insisted  upon  it  that  they  were  his ; 
though  as  they  were  in  common  circulation,  it  was  as  im- 
possible to  swear  to  them  as  any  other  coin.  He  declared, 
however,  that  he  had  no  doubt  but  that  Monsieur  and  Ma- 
dame d'Anglade  had  robbed  him  ;  and  said  that  he  would 
answer  for  the  honesty  of  all  his  own  people  ;  and  that  on 
this  occasion  he  could  not  but  recollect,  that  the  Sieur 
Grimaudet,  who  had  before  occupied  this  hotel,  which  Mon- 
sieur d'Anglade  had  inhabited  at  the  same  time,  had  lost  a 
valuable  piece  of  plate.  It  was,  therefore,  the  Count  said, 
very  probable  that  d'Anglade  had  been  guilty  of  both  the 
robberies,  which  had  happened  in  the  same  place  while  he 
inhabited  it. 

On  this,  the  rouleau  of  seventy  louis  d'ors,  the  lieutenant 
of  the  p'olice  seized.  He  bid  Monsieur  d'Anglade  count 
them  ;  he  did  so,  but  terrified  at  the  imputation  of  guilt, 
and  at  the  fatal  consequence  which  in  France  often  fol- 
lows the  imputation  only,  his  hand  trembled  as  he  did  it , 
he  was  sensible  of  it,  and  said  "  I  tremble."  This  emotion, 


THE    MTTSETTM.  251 

so  natural  even  to  innocence,  appeared  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Count  and  lieutenant,  a  corroboration  of  his  guilt.  After 
this  examination  they  descended  to  the  ground  floor,  where 
the  almoner,  page,  and  valet-de-chambre  were  accustom 
ed  to  sleep  together  in  a  small  room.  Madame  d'Anglade 
desired  the  officer  of  the  police  to  remark,  that  the  door  of 
this  apartment  had  been  left  open,  and  that  the  valet-de- 
chambre  probably  knew  why,  of  whom,  therefore,  inquiry 
should  be  made.  Nothing  was  more  natural  than  this  ob- 
servation ;  yet  to  minds  already  prepossessed  with  an  opin- 
ion of  the  guilt  of  Anglade  and  his  wife,  this  remark  seemed 
to  confirm  it ;  when  in  a  corner  of  this  room,  where  the 
wall  formed  a  little  recess,  five  of  the  sacks  were  discover- 
ed, which  the  Count  had  lost,  in  each  of  which  was  a  thou- 
sand livres  ;  and  a  sixth,  from  which  upwards  of  two  hun- 
dred had  been  taken.  After  this,  no  further  inquiry  was 
made,  nor  any  of  the  servants  examined.  The  guilt  of 
Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Anglade  was  ascertained  in  the 
opinion  of  the  lieutenant  of  the  police  and  the  Count  de 
Montgomery  ;  and,  on  no  stronger  grounds  than  the  cir- 
cumstance of  finding  the  seventy  louis  d'ors,  the  emotion 
shown  by  d'Anglade  while  he  counted  them,  and  the  re- 
mark made  by  his  wife,  were  these  unfortunate  people 
committed  to  prison.  Their  effects  were  seized :  M.  d'An- 
glade was  thrown  into  a  dungeon  in  the  Chatalet,  and  his 
wife,  who  was  with  child,  and  her  little  girl,  about  four 
years  old,  were  sent  to  fort  1'Eveque ;  while  the  strictest 
orders  were  given  that  no  person  whatever,  should  be  ad- 
mitted to  speak  to  them.  The  prosecution  now  com- 
menced, and  the  lieutenant  of  the  police,  who  had  commit- 
ted the  unhappy  man,  was  to  be  his  judge.  D'Anglade 
appealed,  and  attempted  to  institute  a  suit  against  him,  and 
make  him  a  party,  in  order  to  prevent  his  being  competent 
to  give  judgment ;  but  this  attempt  failed,  and  served  only 
to  add  personal  animosity  to  the  prejudice  this  officer  had 
before  taken  against  Anglade.  Witnesses  were  examined ; 
but  far  from  their  being  heard  with  impartiality,  their  evi- 
dence was  twisted  to  the  purposes  of  those  who  desired  to 
prove  guilty  the  man  they  were  determined  to  believe  so. 
The  almoner,  Francis  Gagnard,  who  was  the  really  guilty 
person,  was  among  those  whose  evidence  was  now  admit- 


252  THE    MUSEUM. 

ted  against  Anglade ;  and  this  wretch  had  effrontery 
enough  to  conceal  the  emotion  of  his  soul,  and  to  perform 
a  mass,  which  the  Count  ordered  to  be  said  at  St.  Esprit, 
for  a  discovery  of  the  culprits. 

The  lieutenant  of  the  police,  elate  with  his  triumph  ovei 
the  miserable  prisoner,  pushed  on  the  prosecution  with  all 
the  avidity  which  malice  and  revenge  could  inspire  in  a 
vindictive  spirit.  In  spite,  however,  of  all  he  could  do, 
the  proofs  against  d'Anglade  were  still  insufficient :  there- 
fore he  determined  to  have  him  put  to  the  torture,  in  hopes 
of  bringing  him  to  confess  the  crime.  Anglade  appealed, 
but  the  parliament  confirmed  the  order,  and  the  poor  man 
underwent  the  question  ordinary  and  extraordinary  ;  when, 
notwithstanding  his  acute  sufferings,  he  continued  firmly  to 
protest  his  innocence,  till  covered  with  wounds,  his  limbs 
dislocated,  and  his  mind  enduring  yet  more  than  his  body, 
he  was  carried  back  to  his  dungeon.  Disgrace  and  ruin 
overwhelmed  him :  his  fortune  and  effects  were  sold  for 
less  than  a  tenth  of  their  value,  as  is  always  the  case  where 
law  presses  with  its  iron  hand  ;  his  character  was  blasted, 
his  health  was  ruined.  Not  naturally  robust,  and  always 
accustomed  not  only  to  the  comforts,  but  the  elegances 
of  life,  a  long  confinement  in  a  noisome  and  unwholesome 
dungeon,  had  reduced  him  to  the  lowest  state  of  weakness. 
In  such  a  situation  he  was  dragged  forth  to  torture,  and 
then  plunged  again  into  the  damp  and  dark  caevrn  from 
whence  he  came — without  food,  medicine,  or  assistance 
of  any  kind,  though  it  is  usual  for  those  who  suffer  the 
torture  to  have  medicinal  help  and  refreshment  after  it. 
This  excess  of  severity  could  be  imputed  only  to  the 
malignant  influence  of  the  officer  of  justice,  in  whose 
power  he  now  was. 

From  the  same  influence  it  happened,  that  though  the 
Sieur  d'Anglade,  amid  the  most  dreadful  pains,  had  steadily 
protested  his  innocence — and  though  the  evidence  against 
him  was  extremely  defective — sentence  was  given  to  this 
effect :  That  Anglade  should  be  condemned  to  serve  in  the 
galleys  for  nine  years ;  that  his  wife  should,  for  the  like 
term,  be  banished  from  Paris,  and  its  jurisdiction ;  that  they 
should  pay  three  thousand  livres  reparation  to  the  Count 
de  Montgomery  as  damages,  and  make  restitution  of  twen~ 


THE     MUSEUM.  253 

ty-five  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-three  livres,  and 
either  return  the  pearl  necklace  or  pay  five  thousand  livres 
more.  From  this  sum  the  five  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  eighty  livres,  found  in  the  sacks  in  the  servants'  room, 
were  to  be  deducted,  together  with  the  seventy  louis  d'ors 
found  in  the  box,  of  which  the  officer  of  justice  had  taken 
possession,  and  also  a  double  Spanish  pistole,  and  seven- 
teen louis  d'ors  found  on  the  person  of  Anglade,  which  was 
his  own  money. 

Severe  as  this  sentence  was,  and  founded  on  such  slight 
presumption,  it  was  put  immediately  into  execution.  Ang- 
'ade,  whose  constitution  was  already  sinking  under  the 
heavy  pressure  of  his  misfortunes,  whose  limbs  were  con- 
tracted by  the  dampness  of  his  prison,  and  who  had  under- 
gone the  most  excruciating  tortures,  was  sent  to  the  tower 
of  Montgomery,  there  to  remain,  without  assistance  or  con- 
solation, till  the  convicts  condemned  to  the  galleys  were 
ready  to  go.  He  was  then  chained  with  them — a  situa- 
tion how  dreadful !  for  a  gentleman  whose  sensibility  of 
mind  was  extreme,  and  who  had  never  suffered  hardship 
or  difficulty  till  then  ;  when  he  was  plunged  at  once  into  the 
lowest  abyss  of  misery,  chained  among  felons,  and  con- 
demned to  the  most  hopeless  confinement  and  the  severest 
labor,  without  any  support  but  what  he  could  procure  from 
the  pity  of  those  who  saw  him  ;  for  of  his  own  he  had  now 
nothing !  Yet,  dreadful  as  these  evils  were,  he  supported 
them  with  that  patient  firmness,  which  nothing  but  con- 
scious innocence  could  have  produced.  Reduced  to  the 
extreme  of  human  wretchedness,  he  felt  not  for  himself;  but 
when  he  reflected  on  the  situation  of  his  wife  and  infant 
daughter,  his  fortitude  forsook  him.  A  fever  had,  from 
his  first  confinement,  preyed  on  his  frame ;  its  progress 
grew  more  rapid,  and  he  felt  his  death  inevitable.  When 
the  galley  slaves  were  being  collected  to  depart,  he  be- 
sought leave  to  see  his  wife,  and  to  give  his  last  blessing 
to  his  child — but  it  was  denied  him !  He  submitted  and 
prepared  to  go  ;  but  being  too  weak  to  stand,  he  was  put 
into  a  wagon,  whence  he  was  taken  at  night,  when  they 
stopped,  and  laid  on  straw  in  a  barn  or  outhouse,  and  the 
next  morning  carried  again,  between  two  men  to  the 
wagon,  to  continue  his  journey.  In  this  manner,  and  be- 

22 


254  THE    MUSEUM. 

lieving  every  hour  would  be  his  last,  the  unhappy  man 
arrived  at  Marseilles.  It  was  asserted,  but  for  the  honor 
of  human  nature  should  not  be  believed,  that  the  Count  de 
Montgomery  pressed  his  departure,  notwithstanding  the 
deplorable  condition  he  was  in,  and  even  waited  on  the 
road  to  see  him  pass,  and  enjoy  the  horrid  spectacle  of  his 
sufferings.  The  unhappy  wife  of  this  injured  man  had  not 
been  treated  with  more  humanity.  She  had  been  dragged 
to  prison,  separate  from  that  of  her  husband,  and  confined 
in  a  dungeon.  She  was  with  child,  and  the  terror  she  had 
undergone  occasioned  her  to  miscarry.  Long  fainting  fits 
succeeded ;  and  she  had  no  help  but  that  of  her  little  girl,  who, 
young  as  she  was,  endeavored  to  recall  her  dying  mother 
by  bathing  her  temples,  and  by  making  her  smell  of  bread 
dipped  in  wine.  But  as  she  believed  every  fainting  fit 
would  be  her  last,  she  implored  the  jailor  to  allow  her  a 
confessor :  after  much  delay  he  sent  one,  and  by  these 
means  the  poor  woman  received  succor  and  sustenance  , 
but  while  she  slowly  gathered  strength,  her  little  girl  grew 
ill.  The  noisome  damps,  the  want  of  proper  food,  and  of 
fresh  air,  overcame  the  tender  frame  of  the  poor  child ; 
and  then  it  was  that  the  destruction  and  despair  of  the 
mother  was  at  its  height.  In  the  middle  of  a  rigorous  win- 
ter, they  were  in  a  cavern,  where  no  air  could  enter,  and 
where  the  damps  only  lined  the  wall ;  a  little  charcoal,  in 
an  earthen  pot,  was  all  the  fire  they  had,  and  the  smoke 
was  so  offensive  and  dangerous,  that  it  increased  rather 
than  diminished  their  sufferings.  In  this  dismal  place,  the 
mother  saw  her  child  sinking  under  a  disease,  for  which 
she  had  no  remedies.  Cold  sweats  accompanied  it,  and  she 
had  neither  clean  linen  for  her,  nor  fire  to  warm  her  ;  and 
even  as  their  food  depended  on  charity,  and  they  were 
not  allowed  to  see  any  body,  they  had  no  relief  but 
what  the  priest  from  time  to  time  procured  them.  At 
length,  and  as  a  great  favor,  they  were  removed  to  a 
place  less  damp  to  which  there  was  a  little  window ;  but 
the  window  was  stopped,  and  the  fumes  of  the  charcoal 
were  as  noxious  as  in  the  cavern  they  had  left.  Here  they 
remained,  however,  (Providence  having  prolonged  their 
lives,)  for  four  or  five  months.  Monsieur  d'Anglade,  not 
being  in  a  condition  to  be  chained  to  the  oar,  was  sent  to 


THE     MUSEUM.  255 

the  hospital  of  the  convicts  at  Marseilles  ;  his  disease  still 
preyed  on  the  remains  of  a  ruined  constitution,  but  his  suf- 
ferings were  lengthened  out  beyond  what  his  weakness 
seemed  to  promise.  It  was  near  four  months  after  his  ar- 
rival at  Marseilles,  that  being  totally  exhausted,  he  felt  his 
last  moments  approach,  and  desired  to  receive  the  sacra- 
ments ;  before  they  were  administered  to  him,  he  solemnly 
declared,  as  he  hoped  to  be  received  into  the  presence  of 
the  Searcher  of  hearts,  that  he  was  innocent  of  the  crime 
laid  to  his  charge  ;  that  he  forgave  his  inexorable  prosecu- 
tor and  his  partial  judge,  and  felt  no  other  regret  in  quit- 
ting the  world,  than  that  of  leaving  his  wife  and  child  ex- 
posed to  the  miseries  of  poverty,  and  the  disgrace  of  his 
imputed  crime  :  but  he  trusted  his  vindication  to  God,  who 
had,  he  said,  lent  him  fortitude  to  endure  the  sufferings  he 
had  not  deserved  ;  and,  after  having  received  the  eucharist 
with  piety  and  composure,  he  expired — a  martyr  to  unjust 
suspicion,  and  hasty  or  malicious  judgment. 

He  had  been  dead  only  a  few  weeks,  when  several  per- 
sons, who  had  known  him,  received  anonymous  letters ; 
the  letters  signified,  that  the  person  who  wrote  them,  was 
on  the  point  of  hiding  himself  in  a  convent  the  rest  of  his 
life  ;  but  before  he  did  so,  his  conscience  obliged  him  to 
inform  whom  it  might  concern,  that  the  Sieur  d'Anglade 
was  innocent  of  the  robbery  committed  in  the  apartments 
of  the  Count  Montgomery ;  that  the  perpetrators  were  one 
Vincent  Belestre,  the  son  of  a  tanner  of  Mans  ;  and  a  priest 
named  Gagnard,  a  native  also  of  Mans,  who  had  been  the 
Count's  almoner.  The  letters  added,  that  a  woman  of  the 
name  of  De  la  Comble  could  give  light  into  the  whole  af- 
fair. One  of  these  letters  was  sent  to  the  Countess  de 
Montgomery,  who,  however,  had  not  generosity  enough  to 
show  it ;  but  the  Sieur  Roysillon,  and  some  others  who  had 
received  at  the  same  time  the  same  kind  of  letters,  deter- 
mined to  inquire  into  the  affair :  while  the  friends  of  the 
Count  de  Montgomery,  who  began  to  apprehend  that  he 
would  be  disagreeably  situated  if  his  prosecution  of  d'An- 
glade should  be  found  unjust,  pretended  to  discover  that 
these  letters  were  dictated  by  Madame  d'Anglade ;  who 
hoped  by  this  artifice  to  deliver  her  husband's  memory 
from  the  odium  which  rested  on  it,  and  herself  and  her 


256  THE    MUSEUM. 

child  from  the  dungeon  in  which  they  were  still  confined. 
An  inquiry  was  set  on  foot  after  Belestre  and  Gagnard, 
who  had  some  time  before  quitted  the  Count's  service.  It 
was  found  that  Belestre  was  a  consummate  villain,  who 
had  in  the  early  part  of  his  life  been  engaged  in  an  assas- 
sination, for  which  he  was  obliged  to  fly  from  his  native 
place  ;  that  he  had  been  a  soldier ;  had  killed  his  sergeant 
in  a  quarrel,  and  deserted ;  then  returning  to  his  own 
country,  had  been  a  wandering  vagabond,  going  by  differ- 
ent names,  and  practising  every  species  of  roguery :  that 
he  had  sometimes  been  a  beggar,  and  sometimes  a  bully 
about  the  streets  of  Paris,  but  always  much  acquainted  and 
connected  with  Gagnard,  his  countryman  ;  and  that  sud- 
denly from  the  lowest  indigence,  he  had  appeared  to  be  in 
affluence ;  had  bought  himself  rich  clothes,  had  shown  va- 
rious sums  of  money,  and  had  purchased  an  estate  near 
Mans,  for  which  he  had  paid  between  nine  and  ten  thou- 
sand livres. 

Gagnard,  who  was  the  son  of  the  jailer  of  Mans,  had 
come  to  Paris  without  either  clothes  or  money,  and  had 
subsisted  on  charity,  or  by  saying  masses  at  St.  Esprit,  by 
which  he  hardly  gained  enough  to  keep  him  alive  ;  when 
the  Count  de  Montgomery  took  him.  It  was  impossible 
what  he  got  in  his  service,  as  wages,  could  enrich  him : 
yet,  immediately  after  quitting  it,  he  was  seen  clothed 
neatly  in  his  clerical  habit ;  his  expenses  for  his  entertain- 
ments were  excessive :  he  had  plenty  of  money  in  his 
pocket ;  and  had  taken  a  woman  out  of  the  streets,  whom 
he  had  established  in  handsome  lodgings,  and  clothed  with 
the  greatest  profusion  of  finery.  These  observations  alone, 
had  they  been  made  in  time,  were  sufficient  to  have  open- 
ed the  way  to  a  discovery,  which  might  have  saved  the  life 
and  redeemed  the  honor  of  the  unfortunate  d'Anglade. 
Late  as  it  was,  justice  was  now  ready  to  overtake  them, 
and  the  hand  of  Providence  itself  seemed  to  assist.  Gag- 
nard, being  in  a  tavern  in  the  street  St.  Andre  des  Arcs, 
was  present  at  a  quarrel  wherein  a  man  was  killed  ;  he  was 
sent  to  prison,  with  the  rest  of  the  people  in  the  house ; 
and  about  the  same  time,  a  man  who  had  been  robbed  and 
cheated  by  Belestre,  near  three  years  before,  met  him, 
watched  him  to  his  lodgings,  and  put  him  into  the  hands 


THE    MUSEUM.  257 

of  the  Marechaussee.  These  two  wretches  being  thus  in 
the  hands  of  justice,  for  other  crimes,  underwent  an  exam- 
ination relative  to  the  robbery  of  the  Count  de  Montgome- 
ry; they  betrayed  themselves  by  inconsistent  answers. 
Their  accomplices  were  apprehended ;  and  the  whole  affair 
now  appeared  so  clear,  that  it  was  only  astonishing  how 
the  criminals  could  have  been  mistaken. 

The  guardians  of  Constantia  Guillemot,  the  daughter  of 
d'Anglade,  now  desired  to  be  admitted  parties  in  the  suit, 
on  behalf  of  their  ward  ;  that  the  guilt  of  Belestre  and 
Gagnard  might  be  proved,  and  the  memory  of  Monsieur 
d'Anglade  and  the  character  of  his  widow,  justified ;  as 
well  as  that  she  might,  by  fixing  the  guilt  on  those  who 
were  really  culpable,  obtain  restitution  of  her  father's 
effects,  and  amends  from  the  Count  de  Montgomery.  She 
became,  through  her  guardian,  prosecutrix  of  the  two  vil- 
lains ;  the  principal  witness  against  whom  was  a  man  called 
the  Abbe  de  Fontpierre,  who  had  belonged  to  the  associa- 
tion of  thieves  of  which  Belestre  was  a  member.  This 
man  said  that  he  had  written  the  anonymous  letters  which 
led  to  the  discovery  ;  for  that,  after  the  death  of  d'Ang- 
lade, his  conscience  reproached  him  with  being  privy  to  so 
enormous  a  crime.  He  swore  that  Belestre  had  obtained 
from  Gagnard  the  impressions  of  the  Count's  keys  in  wax, 
by  which  means  he  had  others  made,  that  opened  the  locks. 
He  said,  that  soon  after  the  condemnation  of  d'Anglade  to 
the  galleys  he  was  in  a  room  adjoining  to  one  where  Belestre 
and  Gagnard  were  drinking  and  feasting  ;  that  he  heard 
the  former  say  to  the  latter,  "  come  my  friend,  let  us  drink 
and  enjoy  ourselves,  while  this  fine  fellow,  this  Marquis 
d'Anglade,  is  at  the  galleys."  To  which  Gagnard  replied, 
with  a  sigh,  "  Poor  man,  I  cannot  help  being  sorry  for  him ; 
he  was  a  good  kind  of  a  man,  and  was  always  very  civil 
and  obliging  to  me."  Belestre  then  exclaimed  with  a 
laugh,  "  Sorry  !  what,  sorry  for  a  man  who  has  secured  us 
from  suspicion,  and  made  our  fortune."  Much  other  dis- 
course of  the  same  kind  he  repeated.  And  De  la  Cornble 
deposed  that  Belestre  had  shown  her  great  sums  of  money, 
arid  a  beautiful  pearl  necklace  ;  and  when  she  asked  him 
where  he  got  all  this  ?  he  answered,  that  he  had  won  it  at 
play.  These,  and  many  other  circumstances  related  by 

22* 


258  THE    MUSEUM. 

this  woman,  confirmed  his  guilt  beyond  a  doubt.  In  his 
pocket  were  found  a  Gazette  of  Holland,  in  which  he  had 
(it  was  supposed)  caused  it  to  be  inserted,  that  the  men 
who  had  been  guilty  of  the  robbery,  for  which  the  Sieur 
d'Anglade  had  been  condemned,  were  executed  for  some 
other  crime  at  Orleans — hoping  by  this  means  to  stop 
any  farther  inquiry.  A  letter  was  also  found  on  him  from 
Gagnard,  which  advised  him  of  the  rumors  which  were 
spread  from  the  anonymous  letters  ;  and  desiring  him  to 
find  some  means  to  quiet  or  get  rid  of  the  Abbe  Fontpierre. 
The  proof  of  the  criminality  of  these  two  men  being  fully 
established,  they  were  condemned  to  death  ;  and,  being 
previously  made  to  undergo  the  question  ordinary  and  ex- 
traordinary, they  confessed,  Gagnard  upon  the  rack,  and 
Belestre  at  the  place  of  execution,  that  they  had  commit- 
ted the  robbery.  Gagnard  declared,  that  if  the  lieutenant 
of  the  police  had  pressed  him  with  questions  the  day  that 
d'Anglade  and  his  wife  were  taken  up,  he  was  in  such  con- 
fusion, he  should  have  confessed  all. 

These  infamous  men  having  suffered  the  punishment  of 
their  crime,  Constantia  Guillemot  d'Anglade  continued  to 
prosecute  the  suit  against  the  Count  de  Montgomery,  for 
the  unjust  accusation  he  had  made  ;  who  endeavored,  by 
the  chicane  which  his  fortune  gave  him  the  power  to  com- 
mand, to  evade  the  restitution  :  at  length,  after  a  very  long 
process,  the  court  decided — that  the  Count  de  Montgo- 
mery should  restore  to  the  widow  and  daughter  of  d'Ang- 
lade, the  sum  which  their  effects,  and  all  their  property  that 
was  seized,  had  produced — that  he  should  farther  pay  them 
a  certain  sum,  as  amends  for  the  damages  and  injuries 
they  had  sustained,  and  that  their  condemnation  should  be 
erased,  and  their  honors  restored  ;  which,  though  it  was  all 
the  reparation  that  could  now  be  made  them,  could  not 
bind  up  the  incurable  wounds  they  had  suffered  in  this  un- 
just and  cruel  prosecution. 

Mademoiselle  d'Anglade,  whose  destiny  excited  univer- 
sal commiseration,  was  taken  into  the  protection  of  some 
generous  person  about  the  court,  who  raised  for  her  a  sub- 
scription, which  at  length  amounted  to  a  hundred  thousand 
livres  ;  which  together  with  the  restitution  of  her  father's 
effects,  made  a  handsome  provision  for  her ;  and  she  was 


THE    MUSEUM 


married  to  Monsieur  des  Essarts,  a  counsellor  of  parlia- 
ment.— Causes  Celebres. 


EXTRAORDINARY    SLEEP-WALKER. 

A  YOUNG  gentleman  going  down  from  London  to  the 
west  of  England,  to  the  house  of  a  worthy  gentleman  to 
whom  he  had  the  honor  to  be  related,  it  happened  that  the 
gentleman's  house  at  that  time  was  full,  by  reason  of  a  kins- 
woman's wedding  that  had  been  lately  kept  there  ;  he 
therefore  told  the  young  gentleman  that  he  was  very  glad 
to  see  him,  and  that  he  was  very  welcome  to  him  ;  "  but." 
said  he,  "  I  know  not  what  I  shall  do  for  a.  lodging  for  you, 
for  my  cousin's  marriage  has  not  left  me  a  room  free  but 
one,  and  that  is  haunted ;  you  shall  have  a  very  good  bed, 
and  all  other  accommodation."  "  Sir,"  replied  the  young 
gentleman,  "  you  will  very  much  oblige  me  in  letting  me 
be  there,  for  I  have  often  coveted  to  be  in  a  place  that  was 
haunted."  The  gentleman  very  glad  that  his  kinsman  was  so 
well  pleased  with  his  accommodation,  ordered  the  chamber 
to  be  got  ready,  and  a  good  fire  to  be  made  in  it,  it  being 
winter.  When  bed  time  came,  the  young  gentleman  was 
conducted  to  his  chamber,  which,  besides  a  good  fire,  was 
furnished  with  all  suitable  accommodations.  After  having 
recommended  himself  to  the  divine  protection,  he  went  to 
bed,  where,  having  kept  some  time  awake  and  finding  no  dis- 
turbance, he  fell  asleep  ;  out  of  which  he  was  awoke  about 
3  o'clock  in  the  morning,  by  the  opening  of  the  chamber-door 
and  the  entrance  of  somebody  with  the  appearance  of  a 
young  lady,  having  a  night-dress  on  her  head,  and  only  her 
night-gown  on ;  but  he  had  not  a  perfect  view  of  her,  for  his 
candle  was  burnt  out ;  and  though  there  was  a  fire  in  the 
room,  it  gave  not  light  enough  to  see  her  distinctly.  On  en- 
tering the  room,  this  unknown  visitant  went  directly  to  the 
chimney,  and  taking  hold  of  the  poker,  stirred  up  the  fire,  by 
the  flaming  light  of  which  the  young  gentleman  was  enabled 
distinctly  to  discern  the  appearance  of  a  beautiful  young 
lady — but  whether  she  was  flesh  and  blood,  or  an  airy 
phantom,  he  knew  not.  This  lovely  appearance,  having 
stood  some  time  before  the  fire,  as  if  to  warm  herself,  at 


260  THE    MUSEUM. 

last  walked  two  or  three  times  about  the  room,  and  then 
went  to  the  bedside,  where  having  stood  a  little  while,  she 
took  up  the  bed-clothes  and  went  into  bed,  pulling  them 
carefully  over  her,  and  lay  very  quietly.  The  young  gen- 
tleman was  a  little  startled  at  his  unknown  bed-fellow,  and, 
upon  her  approach,  lay  on  the  further  side  of  the  bed,  not 
knowing  whether  he  had  best  rise  or  not.  At  last,  lying 
very  still,  he  perceived  his  bed-fellow  to  breathe ;  by 
which,  guessing  her  to  be  flesh  and  blood,  he  drew  near  to 
her,  and  taking  her  by  the  hand,  found  it  warm,  and  that 
it  was  no  airy  phantom,  but  substantial  flesh  and  blood, 
and  finding  that  she  had  a  ring  on  her  finger,  he  took  it  off 
unperceived.  The  lady  being  all  this  while  asleep,  he  let 
her  lie  without  disturbing  her.  She  shortly  after  flung  off 
the  bed-clothes  again,  and  getting  up,  walked  several  times 
about  the  room,  as  she  had  done  before ;  and  then  going 
to  the  door,  opened  it,  went  out,  and  shut  it  after  her.  The 
young  gentleman  perceiving  by  this  in  what  manner  the 
room  was  haunted,  rose  up  and  locked  the  door  on  the  in- 
side, and  lay  down  again  and  slept  till  morning ;  at  which 
time  the  master  of  the  house  came  to  him  to  know  how  he 
did,  and  whether  he  had  seen  any  thing  or  not  ?  He  said 
that  an  apparition  had  appeared  to  him,  but  begged  the 
favor  that  he  would  not  urge  him  to  explain  any  thing  fur- 
ther till  the  whole  family  were  together.  The  gentleman 
complied  with  his  request,  telling  him  that  as  he  was  well 
he  was  perfectly  satisfied.  The  desire  the  whole  family 
had  to  know  the  issue  of  this  affair  made  them  dress  with 
more  expedition  than  usual,  so  that  there  was  a  general 
assembly  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  before  eleven  o'clock, 
not  one  of  them  being  willing  to  appear  in  their  dishabille. 
When  they  were  all  got  together  in  the  great  hall,  the  young 
gentleman  told  them  he  had  one  favor  to  desire  of  the 
ladies  before  he  could  proceed,  which  was,  to  know  whether 
any  of  them  had  lost  a  ring  ?  The  lady  from  whose  finger 
it  was  taken  having  missed  it,  and  not  knowing  how  she 
had  lost  it,  was  glad  to  hear  of  it  again,  and  readily  owned 
she  missed  a  ring,  but  whether  lost  or  mislaid,  she  knew 
not.  The  young  gentleman  asked  her  if  that  was  it,  exhi- 
biting the  ring,  which  she  acknowledged  to  be  her's,  and 
with  the  restoration  of  which  she  seemed  well  pleased. 


THE     MUSEUM.  261 

The  young  gentleman,  turning  to  the  master  of  the  house, 
then  said,  "  Sir,  I  can  assure  you,"  taking  the  lady  by  the 
hand,  "  this  is  the  lovely  spirit  by  which  your  chamber  is 
haunted,"  and  repeated  what  is  above  related.  No  words 
can  express  the  confusion  the  young  lady  seemed  to  be  in 
at  his  narration,  who  declared  herself  perfectly  ignorant 
of  all  that  had  happened,  but  could  not  deny  it  because  of 
the  ring,  wThich  she  perfectly  well  remembered  she  had  on 
when  she  went  to  bed,  and  knew  not  how  she  had  lost  it. 
This  relation  gave  the  company  a  great  deal  of  diversion  ; 
for,  after  all,  the  father  declared,  that  since  his  daughter  had 
already  gone  to  bed  with  his  kinsman,  it  should  be  his  fault 
if  he  did  not  go  to  bed  to  his  daughter  ;  he  being  willing  to 
bestow  her  upon  him,  and  give  her  a  good  portion.  This 
generous  offer  was  so  advantageous  to  the  young  gentle- 
man that  he  could  by  no  means  refuse  it ;  and  his  late 
bed-fellow,  hearing  what  her  father  said,  was  easily  pre- 
vailed upon  to  accept  him  for  a  husband. 


VOLUNTARY    STARVATION. 

PROFESSOR  HUFFLAND,  in  one  of  his  Journals,  gives  a 
most  extraordinary  case  of  a  tradesman,  who,  impelled  by 
a  succession  of  misfortunes,  and  absolutely  destitute  of  the 
means  of  procuring  food,  retired  to  a  sequestered  spot  in 
a  forest,  and  there  resolved  to  starve  himself  to  death.  He 
put  this  determination  in  force,  September  15,  and  was 
found  on  the  3d  of  October  (eighteen  days)  still  living,  al- 
though speechless,  insensible,  and  reduced  to  the  last  stage 
of  debility.  A  small  quantity  of  liquid  was  given  him, 
after  which;  he  expired.  By  his  side  were  found  a  pocket- 
book  and  pencil,  with  which  he  had  contrived  to  keep  a 
daily  journal  of  his  state  and  sufferings,  and  in  which  he 
had  persevered  till  the  29th  of  September.  He  begins  by 
giving  an  account  of  himself,  and  states  that  he  was  a  re- 
spectable tradesman,  possessing  good  property,  of  which 
he  had  been  deprived  by  misfortune  and  villainy,  and  that 
he  had  come  to  the  determination  of  starving  himself  to 
death,  not  so  much  with  the  view  of  committing  suicide,  as 


262  THE    MUSEUM. 

because  he  was  unable  to  procure  work ;  that  he  had  in 
vain  offered  himself  as  a  soldier  ;  and  was  too  proud  to  ap- 
ply to  unfeeling  relations.  This  note  is  dated  on  the  10th, 
which  day  he  had  employed  in  constructing  a  little  hut  of 
bushes  and  leaves.  On  the  17th,  he  complains  of  suffering 
much  from  cold,  and  in  his  journal  of  the  18th,  he  mentions 
having  suffered  from  intolerable  thirst,  to  appease  which, 
he  had  licked  the  dew  from  the  surrounding  vegetables. 
On  the  20th,  he  found  a  small  piece  of  coin,  and  with  great 
difficulty  reached  an  inn,  where  he  purchased  a  bottle  of 
beer.  The  beer  failed,  however,  to  quench  his  thirst,  and 
his  strength  was  so  reduced,  that  he  took  three  hours  to 
accomplish  the  distance,  about  two  miles.  On  the  22d,  he 
discovered  a  spring  of  water,  but,  though  tormented  with 
thirst,  the  agony  which  the  cold  water  produced  on  his 
stomach  excited  vomiting  and  convulsions.  The  23d 
made  ten  days  since  he  had  taken  any  food  but  beer  and 
a  little  water.  During  that  time  he  had  not  slept  at  all. 
On  the  26th,  he  complains  of  his  feet  being  dead,  and  of 
being  distracted  by  thirst ;  he  was  too  weak  to  crawl  to 
the  spring,  and  yet  dreadfully  susceptible  of  suffering.  The 
29th  of  September  was  the  last  day  on  which  he  made  any 
memorandum. 


THE    FORCE    OF    CONSCIENCE. 

A  JEWELLER,  a  man  of  good  character  and  of  consider 
able  wealth,  in  France,  having  occasion  in  the  way  of  bu 
siness,  to  travel  some  distance  from  the  place  of  his  abode, 
took  along  with  him  a  servant,  in  order  to  take  care  of  his 
portmanteau.  He  had  along  with  him  some  of  his  best 
jewels,  and  a  large  sum  of  money,  to  which  his  servant 
was  likewise  privy.  The  master  having  occasion  to  dis- 
mount on  the  road,  the  servant  watched  his  opportunity, 
took  a  pistol  from  his  master's  saddle,  and  shot  him  dead 
on  the  spot ;  then  rifling  him  of  his  jewels  and  money,  and 
hanging  a  large  stone  to  his  neck,  he  threw  him  into  the 
nearest  canal.  With  this  booty  he  made  off  to  a  distant 
part  of  the  country,  where  he  had  reason  to  believe  that 


THE    MUSEUM.  263 

neither  he  nor  his  master  were  known.  There  he  began 
to  trade  in  a  low  way  at  first,  that  his  obscurity  might  screen 
him  from  observation ;  and,  in  the  course  of  a  good  many 
years  seemed  to  rise  by  the  natural  progress  of  business, 
into  wealth  and  consideration :  so  that  his  good  fortune  ap- 
peared at  once  the  effect  and  reward  of  his  industry  and 
virtue.  Of  these  he  counterfeited  the  appearance  so  well, 
that  he  grew  in  great  credit,  and  married  into  a  good  fa- 
mily, and  by  laying  out  his  hidden  stores  discreetly  as  he 
saw  occasion,  and  joining  to  all  a  universal  affability,  he 
was  admitted  to  a  share  of  the  government  of  the  town, 
and  rose  from  one  post  to  another,  till  at  length  he  was 
chosen  chief  magistrate. 

In  this  office  he  maintained  a  fair  character,  and  con- 
tinued to  fill  it  with  no  small  applause,  both  as  a  governor 
and  a  judge,  till  one  day,  as  he  sat  on  the  bench  with  some 
of  his  brethren,  a  criminal  was  brought  before  them  who 
was  accused  of  having  murdered  his  master.  The  evi- 
dence came  out  full,  the  jury  brought  in  their  verdict  that 
the  prisoner  was  guilty,  and  the  whole  assembly  awaited 
the  sentence  of  the  president  of  the  court  (which  he  hap- 
pened to  be  that  day,)  with  great  suspense.  Meanwhile 
he  appeared  to  be  in  an  unusual  disorder  and  agitation  of 
mind  :  his  color  changed  often ;  at  length  he  arose  from  his 
seat,  and  coming  down  from  the  bench,  placed  himself  by 
the  unfortunate  man  at  the  bar,  to  the  no  small  astonish- 
ment of  all  present.  "  You  see  before  you,"  said  he.  ad- 
dressing himself  to  those  who  had  sat  on  the  bench  with  him, 
"  a  striking  instance  of  the  just  awards  of  heaven,  which 
this  day.  after  thirty  years'  concealment,  presents  to  you  a 
true  picture  of  the  man  just  now  found  jruilty."  Then  he 
made  an  ample  coriiession  of  his  guilt,  and  of  all  its  aggra- 
vations, particularly  the  ingratitude  of  it  to  a  master  who 
had  raised  him  from  the  veiy  dust,  and  reposed  a  peculiar 
confidence  in  him  ;  and  told  them  in  what  manner  he  had 
hitherto  screened  himself  from  public  justice,  and  how  he 
had  escaped  the  observations  of  mankind  by  the  specious 
mask  he  had  worn. 

"  But  now,"  added  he,  "  no  sooner  did  this  unhappy 
prisoner  appear  before  us,  charged  with  the  same  crime  I 
was  conscious  of  myself,  than  the  cruel  circumstances  of 


264  THE    MUSEUM. 

my  guilt  beset  me  in  all  their  horror,  the  arrows  of  the  Al- 
mighty stuck  fast  withim  me,  and  my  own  crime  appeared 
so  atrocious,  that  I  could  not  consent  to  pass  sentence 
against  my  fellow-criminal,  till  I  had  first  impanneled  and 
accused  myself.  Nor  can  I  now  feel  any  relief  from  the 
agonies  of  an  awakened  conscience,  but  by  requiring  that 
justice  may  be  forthwith  done  against  me  in  the  most  pub- 
lic and  solemn  manner,  for  so  aggravated  a  parricide  ; 
therefore,  in  the  presence  of  the  all-seeing  God,  the  great 
witness  and  judge  of  my  crime,  and  before  this  assembly, 
who  have  been  the  witness  of  my  hypocrisy,  I  plead  guilty, 
and  require  sentence  may  be  passed  against  me  as  a  most 
notorious  malefactor."  We  may  easily  suppose  the  amaze- 
ment of  all  the  assembly,  and  especially  of  his  fellow 
judges ;  however,  they  proceeded  upon  his  confession  to 
pass  sentence  upon  him,  and  he  died  with  all  the  symptoms 
of  a  penitent  mind. 


END   OF   VOLUME   FIRST. 


THE 


MUSEUM 


REMARKABLE  AND  INTERESTING  EVENTS. 


VOL.  II. 


CONTENTS   TO   VOL.11 


Page 

LAMENTABLE  case  of  Wm.  Shaw,                          ....  5 

Singular  administration  of  justice,       •*.'""          -'v^'-;.         .         .  7 

Mysterious  execution  of  a  veiled  lady,            ....     '••',••••  9 

The  assassin  of  Smolensko,         .         .         .         .     ".  ' ;'  •  ;•        .  12 

Pious  fraud  of  the  Dominican  monks,            .....  13 

Extraordinary  adventures  of  the  Duchess  of  Kingston,         '•*•-       .  19 

Matthew  Lovat, *  25 

Miraculous  escape  from  the  royal  serpent  at  Ceylon,      .         .       \-  "  31 

Strange  carnival  at  Petersburgh, '•':  '•'  33 

Execution  of  Cecile  Renaud,        ......       --k'  36 

Arrest  of  a  French  officer  by  the  inquisition,          .         .         .       :»''  38 

Inquisitorial  torture  of  a  free  mason,     ......  42 

Magnanimous  fulfilment  of  a  promise,           .....  47 

Arts  practised  by  Madame  Voisin,  a  celebrated  fortune  teller,         .  48 

Providential  detection  of  murder,          ......  53 

Discovery  of  murder  by  the  sagacity  of  a  dog,       ....  54 

Fatal  expedition  of  Prince  Beckewitz,           .         .         .         .         .  62 

Extraordinary  trial  for  robbery,          .t^i.'1    .....  65 

Outraged  nature  revenged, ,         .  66 

Wonderful  sagacity  of  a  grazier's  dog,           .....  68 

Erroneous  conviction  upon  strong  circumstantial  evidence,     .       '•.':'''  72 

Stukeley  the  recluse, ''-''l">:  74 

King  Richard  and  the  minstrel,             ....  ••••'•^ -•"••  y  77 

Tragical  fate  of  an  American  family,             ....    w;;»   ••  78 

Return  to  savage  life,        •    .                                             ...  81 

The  Indians  and  the  Highlander, 84 

Narrow  escape  of  a  Swiss  soldier,         .....        -V%:  •  86 

Heroic  resolution  of  lady  Harriet  Ackland,             ....  87 

Dreadful  effects  of  blood-money, 90 

Prophecy,  the  cause  of  its  own  completion,            ....  93 

Account  of  Topham,  the  famous  strong  man,         ....  94 

Patriotic  fanaticism,     .         .         .         .         .         .         .        .'•*.-•  96 

Singular  establishment  of  an  American  colony,     .         .         •        *i  u  97 

Catholic  system  of  dragooning, i':  •*•«•'  99 

John  Gunn,  the  freebooter, 102 

The  murderous  barber,        ........  103 

The  inexorable  judge,  p.  106 — Mourat  Bey,          ....  108 

Wat  Tyler's  rebellion,  p.  110 — American  hermitess,     .         .         .  Ill 

Trial  by  battle  in  the  early  ages, 114 

Russian  amusements,           .         .  •''••  ?!I" '  .....  116 

Chastisement  of  the  inquisitors  of  Sarragossa,        .         .         .         .  117 

Astrological  predictions,       ........  119 

Conflict  with  a  rattlesnake, 121 

Singular  discoveries  of  murder,             123 

The  Hindoo  devotee, 125 


IV  CONTENTS. 

Buf 

The  spectre's  voyage,  p.  128 — The  knavish  ghost, 

The  absent  husband  returned, 137 

Honor  and  magnanimity  of  a  Highland  soldier,     ....  139 
The  sailor,  the  showman,  and  the  monkey,           .... 
Severe  justice  of  Jehangire,  emperor  of  the  Moguls,       .         . 
Singular  fortune  of  Chaja  Aiass,           ...... 

Example  of  Turkish  justice, 147 

The  dog  of  Montargis, 

John  Van  Alstine, 150 

Humane  anecdote  of  Lord  Cornwallis, 

The  merchant  and  his  dog,           .......  157 

Singular  intrepidity  in  a  British  officer,          ..... 

Remarkable  combat  and  escape  from  death,         .... 

Trial  for  murder  on  the  pretended  information  of  a  ghost,      .         .  163 

Generosity  of  M.  de  Sallo, 

Savage  courage  and  patriotism,  ...... 

The  faithful  French  servant, 167 

The  treacherous  guests, 169 

John  Mackay,  the  fatalist,            .......  171 

Magnanimous  conduct  of  General  Baur,       .         .         .         .         .  173 

Ancient  barbarity  and  ignorance  of  the  Germans, 

female  guilt  and  fortitude,             .......  176 

Edward  Tinker,  p.  177 — The  Indian  warrior 181 

Bowl  of  punch  drank  on  the  top  of  Pompey's  pillar,       .         .         .  183 

Fire  at  Burwell,  p.  185 — Uncommon  self-possession,     .         .         .  189 

Tragical  fate  of  Hurtado  and  Miranda,         .....  191 
The  Shark  Sentinel,        .          .            ..'.... 

Moses  Adams,  high  sheriff  of  the  county  of  Hancock,          .         .  197 

Dreadful  adventure  in  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,       ....  201 

First  painting  of  the  Crucifixion,           ......  203 

The  samphire  gatherer, 204 

Judicial  case  of  John  Orme,         .......  206 

Murder  of  Archbishop  Sharp,       .......  208 

Arabian  generosity  and  fidelity,             ......  211 

Miraculous  flight  of  a  criminal,     .......  213 

Origin  of  the  game  of  chess,          .......  215 

Recovery  from  execution, 217 

A  ghost  story  explained,       ........  220 

Inefficacy  of  torture  to  extort  confession, 222 

Terrific  adventure  of  a  French  traveller,       .....  224 

Trial  of  John  Home  Tooke,  p.  226— The  Harpes,        ...  229 

Sebastian,  King  of  Portugal,         .......  237 

General  Stewart's  wound,     ...*....  244 

Commencement  of  the  liberty  of  Switzerland,         ....  246 

The  Juvenile  hero,  p.  248— The  lover's  heart 250 

Singular  adventure  of  John  Colter,        ......  251 

Ice  palace  of  St.  Petersburgh,       .......  254 

Stephen  Merril  Clark,  p.  257 — True  bravery,        ....  2f>l 

Inundation  of  the  river  Neva,  in  Russia,  in  1824,           .         .         .  262 

Escape  of  a  farmer  from  drowning,      ......  266 

Perilous  adventure  with  a  bear,    .......  267 

The  old  Jersey  captive, 26i 


THE   MUSEUM. 


LAMENTABLE    CASE    OF    WILLIAM    SHAW. 

WILLIAM  SHAW  was  an  upholsterer  in  Edinburgh,  in 
the  year  1721.  He  had  a  daughter  named  Catharine. 
She  encouraged  the  addresses  of  one  John  Lawson,  a 
jeweller,  towards  whom  William  Shaw  declared  the  most 
insuperable  objections,  alleging  him  to  be  a  profligate 
young  man,  addicted  to  every  kind  of  dissipation.  He 
was  forbidden  the  house ;  but  Catharine  continuing  to 
see  him  clandestinely,  the  father,  on  discovery,  kept  her 
closely  confined. 

William  Shaw  had,  for  some  time,  pressed  his  daughter 
to  receive  the  addresses  of  a  son  of  Alexander  Robertson,  a 
friend  and  neighbor :  and  one  evening,  being  very  urgent 
with  her  thereon,  she  peremptorily  refused,  declaring  she 
preferred  death  to  being  young  Robertson's  wife.  The 
father  grew  enraged,  and  the  daughter  more  positive ;  so 
that  the  most  passionate  expressions  arose  on  both  sides, 
and  the  words,  " barbarity,  cruelty,  and  death"  were  fre- 
quently pronounced  by  the  daughter.  At  length  he  left 
her,  locking  the  door  after  him. 

The  greatest  part  of  the  buildings  at  Edinburgh  are 
formed  on  the  plan  of  the  chambers  in  our  inns  of  court ; 
so  that  many  families  inhabit  rooms  on  the  same  floor, 
having  all  one  common  staircase.  William  Shaw  dwelt 
in  one  of  these,  and  a  single  partition  only  divided  his 
apartment  from  that  of  James  Morrison,  a  watch  case 
maker.  This  man  had  indistinctly  overheard  the  conver- 
sation and  quarrel  between  Catharine  Shaw  and  her  father, 
but  was  particularly  struck  with  the  repetition  of  the  above 
words,  she  having  pronounced  them  loudly  and  emphatic- 
ally. For  some  little  time  after  the  father  was  gone  out,  all 
was  silent,  but  presently  Morrison  heard  several  groans 
from  the  daughter.  Alarmed,  he  ran  to  some  of  his  neigh- 
bors under  the  same  roof.  These  entering  Morrison's 

23* 


6  THE    MUSEUM. 

room,  and  listening  attentively,  not  only  heard  the  groans, 
but  distinctly  heard  Catharine  Shaw,  two  or  three  times, 
faintly  exclaim — "Cruel  father,  thou  art  the  cause  of  my 
death!"  Struck  with  this,  they  flew  to  the  door  of  Shaw's 
apartment;  they  knocked — no  answer  was  given.  The 
knocking  was  still  repeated — etill  no  answer.  Suspicions 
had  before  arisen  against  the  father ;  they  were  now  con- 
firmed— a  constable  was  procured,  an  entrance  forced ; 
Catharine  was  found  weltering  in  her  blood,  and  the  fatal 
knife  by  her  side  !  She  was  alive,  but  speechless :  but  on 
questioning  her  as  to  owing  her  death  to  her  father,  was 
just  able  to  make  a  motion  with  her  head,  apparently  in 
the  affirmative,  and  expired. 

Just  at  the  critical  moment,  William  Shaw  returns  and 
enters  the  room.  All  eyes  are  on  him  !  He  sees  his  neigh- 
bors and  a  constable  in  his  apartment,  and  seems  much 
disordered  thereat;  but  at  the  sight  of  his  daughter  he 
turns  pale,  trembles,  and  is  ready  to  sink.  The  first  sur- 
prise, and  the  succeeding  horror,  leave  but  little  doubt  of  his 
guilt  in  the  breasts  of  the  beholders  ;  and  even  that  little  is 
done  away,  on  the  constable  discovering  that  the  shirt  of 
William  Shaw  is  bloody. 

He  was  instantly  hurried  before  a  magistrate,  and  upon 
the  depositions  of  all  the  parties,  committed  to  prison  on 
suspicion.  He  was  shortly  after  brought  to  trial,  when,  in 
his  defence,  he  acknowledged  the  having  confined  his 
daughter  to  prevent  her  intercourse  with  Lawson  ;  that  he 
had  frequently  insisted  on  her  marrying  of  Robertson  ;  and 
that  he  had  quarrelled  with  her  on  the  subject  the  evening 
she  was  found  murdered,  as  the  witness  Morrison  had  de- 
posed ;  but  he  averred,  that  he  left  his  daughter  unarmed, 
and  untouched  ;  and  that  the  blood  found  upon  his  shirt 
was  there  in  consequence  of  his  having  bled  himself  some 
days  before,  and  the  bandage  becoming  untied.  These 
assertions  did  not  weigh  a  feather  with  the  jury,  when  op- 
posed to  the  strong  circumstantial  evidence  of  the  daugh- 
ter's expressions  of  "  barbarity,  cruelty,  death,"  and  of  "  cruel 
father,  thou  art  the  cause  of  my  death," — together  with 
that  apparently  affirmative  motion  with  her  head,  and  of  the 
blood  so  seemingly  providentially  discovered  on  the  father's 
shirt.  On  these  several  concurring  circumstances,  William 


THE    MUSEUM .  7 

Shaw  was  found  guilty,  was  executed,  and  hung  in  chains 
at  Leith  Walk,  in  November,  1721. 

Was  there  a  person  in  Edinburgh  who  believed  the 
father  guiltless?  No,  not  one  !  notwithstanding  his  latest 
words  at  the  gallows  were,  "  I  am  innocent  of  my  daugh- 
ter's murder."  But  in  August,  1722,  as  a  man  who  had  be- 
come the  possessor  of  the  late  William  Shaw's  apartments, 
was  rummaging  by  chance  in  the  chamber  where  Catharine 
Shaw  died,  he  accidently  perceived  a  paper  fallen  into  a 
cavity  on  one  side  of  the  chimney.  It  was  folded  as  a 
letter,  which,  on  opening,  contained  the  following : — 

11  Barbarous  father,  your  cruelty  in  having  put  it  out  of  my 
power  ever  to  join  rny  fate  to  that  of  the  only  man  I  could 
love,  and  tyrannically  insisting  upon  my  marrying  one 
whom  I  always  hated,  has  made  me  form  a  resolution  to 
put  an  end  to  an  existence  which  is  become  a  burthen  to 
me.  I  doubt  not  I  shall  find  mercy  in  another  world ;  for 
sure  no  benevolent  being  can  require  that  I  should  any 
longer  live  in  torment  to  myself  in  this  !  My  death  I  lay 
to  your  charge ;  when  you  read  this,  consider  yourself  as 
the  inhuman  wretch  that  plunged  the  murderous  knife  into 
the  bosom  of  the  unhappy 

CATHARINE  SHAW." 

This  letter  being  shown,  the  hand  writing  was  recog- 
nized and  avowed  to  be  Catharine  Shaw's,  by  many  of  her 
relations  and  friends.  It  became  the  public  talk ;  and  the 
magistracy  of  Edinburgh,  on  a  scrutiny,  being  convinced 
of  its  authenticity,  they  ordered  the  body  of  William 
Shaw  to  be  taken  from  the  gibbet,  and  given  to  his  family 
for  interment ;  and,  as  the  only  reparation  to  his  memory, 
and  the  honor  of  his  surviving  relations,  they  caused  a 
pair  of  colors  to  be  waved  over  his  grave,  in  token  of 
his  innocence. 


SINGULAR    ADMINISTRATION    OF    JUSTICE. 

MAHOMET  EFFENDI,  Dey  of  Algiers,  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  was  reckoned  the  most  able,  and 


8  THfc    MUSEUM. 

likewise  the  most  equitable  of  those  princes  who  have  for 
many  years  governed  the  Algerines.  His  promotion  to 
sovereign  power  was  involuntary ;  for  he,  no  doubt,  dreaded 
the  fate  of  his  predecessors,  of  whom  no  less  than  twenty- 
three  perished  by  violent  deaths.  He  was  compelled,  never- 
theless, by  the  Janissaries,  to  accept  of  a  dignity,  which, 
notwithstanding  his  justice  and  sagacity,  proved  as  fatal  to 
himself  as  to  former  princes ;  for  he,  also,  a  short  time 
after  his  advancement,  fell  by  assassination.  The  follow 
ing  instance  of  his  justice,  in  which,  however,  his  pro- 
cedure was  somewhat  summary,  was  also,  and  certainly 
with  as  much  reason,  accounted  an  instance  of  his  sagacity. 
Slaves  among  the  Algerines  are  permitted,  either  by  shop- 
keeping  or  otherwise,  and  on  paying  their  masters  a  certain 
sum,  to  earn  a  little  money  for  themselves.  This  they 
very  frequently  employ  in  purchasing  their  freedom.  A 
slave,  named  Almoullah,  kept  an  oil  shop  ;  and  found  his 
gains  increase  so  very  fast,  that  he  soon  accumulated 
seventy  sequins,  amounting  to  about  thirty  pounds  sterling. 
Other  fifty  sequins  would  have  procured  him  his  freedom. 
Fearing,  however,  as  he  was  reckoned  wealthy,  that  he 
might  be  robbed,  and  have  no  redress,  he  gave  his  money 
in  trust  to  a  Moor,  who  lived  in  his  neighborhood  ;  and  in 
whose  friendship,  as  well  as  integrity,  he  had  the  utmost 
confidence.  His  profits  soon  afterwards  became  so  consider- 
able, that  he  found  himself  in  possession  of  the  fifty  se- 
quins he  so  earnestly  wished  for.  He  thus  anticipated, 
with  secret  rapture,  his  delivery  from  bondage  and  return  to 
his  native  land.  Repairing,  therefore,  to  his  Moorish  friend, 
he  said  to  him,  "  How  much  beholden  am  I,  worthy  Hadgi, 
to  your  goodness,  in  having  taken  charge  of  my  little  earn- 
ings !  I  now  intend,  as  I  have  wherewithal  to  procure  my 
liberty,  to  make  the  best  bargain  I  can  with  my  master,  and 
return  to  my  friends  and  kindred.  I  will,  therefore,  re- 
lieve you  of  the  charge  you  so  kindly  undertook."  Hadgi 
beheld  him,  or  pretended  to  behold  him,  with  a  look  of  as- 
tonishment ;  he  affected  .to  believe  him  mad  ;  and  denied 
his  having  any  knowledge  whatever  of  the  transaction  he 
alluded  to.  Almoullah  nevertheless  insisted  peremptorily 
on  having  his  money  restored  to  him.  After  much  alter- 
cation, the  Moor,  apprehending  that  he  could  not  otherwise 


THE    M  TJSETTM  .  9 

secure  the  possession  of  what  he  had  so  unjustly  retained, 
ran  to  the  palace  of  Mahomet,  whom  he  found  administer- 
ing justice ;  and  raising  his  voice,  entreated  that  he  would 
punish  a  slave  for  aspersing  his  "  untainted  character." 
But  Almoullah,  conscious  of  his  integrity,  had  undauntedly 
followed  him ;  and  obtaining  leave  of  the  dey,  he  told  his 
story,  with  circumstantial  firmness,  and  then  prostrated 
himself  on  the  carpet  at  the  foot  of  the  throne.  Mahomet, 
having  heard  him,  beckoned  to  a  chiaoux,  or  minister 
of  justice ;  "  Go,"  said  he,  "  to  the  house  of  Hadgi,  search 
it  narrowly,  and  bring  hither  all  the  money  you  find  in  it." 
The  chiaoux  bowed,  obeyed,  and  soon  after  returned.  The 
dey  having  then  ordered  a  new  earthen  pot  with  clean 
water  poured  into  it,  and  a  charcoal  fire  to  be  placed  before 
him,  he  put  the  pot  on  the  fire,  and  when  the  water 
boiled,  he  threw  in  the  money.  Soon  after,  having  taken 
it  out,  and  letting  the  water  stand  till  it  cooled,  he  found  on 
the  surface  a  thick  greasy  scum.  This  convincing  him 
that  the  money  belonged  to  the  oil  man,  he  instantly 
restored  it  to  him:  and  at  the  same  time,  gave  a  sign 
to  the  chiaoux,  who,  dragging  away  the  self-condemned 
and  convicted  Moor,  fixed  his  head,  without  loss  of  time, 
on  the  wall  of  the  city. 


MYSTERIOUS  EXECUTION  OP  A  VEILED  LADY. 

AN  occurrence  of  a  most  remarkable  and  enigmatical 
nature,  took  place  in  Germany,  about  the  year  1774  ;  the 
circumstance  is  related  thus : — It  is  well  known  that  the 
boureau,  or  public  executioner  of  the  city  of  Strasburgh, 
although  that  place  had  formed  a  part  of  the  French  mon- 
archy ever  since  the  reign  of  Louis  XlVth,  yet  was  fre- 
quently employed,  during  a  great  part  of  the  last  century, 
to  execute  the  functions  of  his  office  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Rhine,  in  Swabia,  in  the  territories  of  Baden,  and  in  the 
Brisgau,  all  of  which  countries  constitute  a  portion  of  Ger- 
many. Some  persons  who  arrived  at  Strasburgh  about  the 
period  alluded  to,  having  repaired,  as  it  is  said,  to  the  house 
of  the  executioner  during  the  night  demanded  that  he 


10  THE    MUSEUM. 

should  instantly  accompany  them  out  of  the  town,  in  order 
to  execute  a  criminal  of  condition,  for  which  service  he 
should  of  course  receive  a  liberal  remuneration.  They 
particularly  enjoined  him  to  bring  the  sword  with  which  he 
was  accustomed,  in  the  discharge  of  his  ordinary  functions, 
to  behead  malefactors.  Being  placed  in  a  carriage,  with 
his  conductors,  he  passed  the  bridge  over  the  river  to  Kehl, 
the  first  town  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Rhine,  where  they 
acquainted  him  that  he  had  a  considerable  journey  to  per- 
form, the  object  of  which  must  be  carefully  concealed,  as 
the  person  intended  to  be  put  to  death  was  an  individual  of 
great,  distinction.  They  added,  that  he  must  not  oppose  their 
taking  the  proper  precautions  to  prevent  his  knowing  the 
place  to  which  he  was  to  be  conveyed.  He  acquiesced,  and 
allowed  them  to  hoodwink  him.  On  the  second  day,  they 
arrived  at  a  moated  castle,  the  drawbridge  of  which  being 
lowered,  they  drove  into  the  court ;  after  waiting  a  consider- 
able time,  he  was  then  conducted  into  a  spacious  hall, 
where  stood  a  scaffold  hung  with  black  cloth,  and  in  the 
centre  was  placed  a  stool  or  chair.  A  female  shortly  made 
her  appearance,  habited  in  deep  mourning,  her  face  wholly 
concealed  by  a  veil.  She  was  led  by  two  persons,  who, 
when  she  wras  seated,  having  first  tied  her  hands,  next  fas- 
tened her  legs  with  cords.  As  far  as  he  could  form  any 
judgment  from  her  general  figure,  he  considered  her  to  have 
passed  the  period  of  youth.  Not  a  word  was  uttered  ;  nei- 
ther did  she  make  any  complaint,  nor  attempt  any  resist- 
ance. When  all  the  preparations  for  her  execution  were 
completed,  on  a  signal  given,  he  unsheathed  the  instrument 
of  punishment,  according  to  the  practice  adopted  in  the 
German  empire,  where  the  axe  is  rarely  or  never  used  for 
decapitation,  and  her  head  being  forcibly  held  up  by  the 
hair,  he  severed  it  at  a  single  stroke  from  her  body.  With- 
out allowing  him  to  remain  more  than  a  few  minutes,  he 
was  then  handsomely  rewarded,  conducted  back  to  Ken] 
by  the  same  persons  who  had  brought  him  to  the  place,  and 
set  down  at  the  end  of  the  bridge  leading  to  Strasburgh. 

A  great  many  opinions  have  been  stated  relative  to  the 
lady  thus  put  to  death.  The  most  general  belief  is,  that  it 
was  Augusta  Elizabeth,  Princess  of  Tour  and  Saxis,  and 
daughter  of  Charles  Alexander,  Prince  of  Wirtemburg. 


THE    MUSEUM.  .1 

She  had  been  married  at  a  very  early  age  to  Charles  An- 
selm,  Prince  of  Tour  and  Saxis.  Whether  it  proceeded 
from  mutual  incompatibility  of  character,  or,  as  was  com- 
monly pretended,  from  the  Princess'  untractable  and  fero- 
cious disposition,  the  marriage  proved  eminently  unfor- 
tunate in  its  results.  She  was  accused  of  having  repeatedly 
attempted  to  take  away  her  husband's  life,  particularly 
whilst  they  were  walking  together  near  the  castle  of  Donau 
Stauff,  on  the  high  bank  overhanging  the  Danube,  when 
she  endeavored  to  precipitate  him  into  the  river.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  about  1773  or  1774,  a  final  separation  took  place 
between  them,  at  the  prince's  solicitation.  The  reigning 
duke  of  Wirtemburg,  her  brother,  to  whose  custody  she  was 
consigned,  caused  her  to  be  closely  immured  in  a  castle 
within  his  own  dominions,  where  she  was  strictly  guarded, 
no  access  being  allowed  to  her.  However,  her  decease  was 
not  formally  announced  till  many  years  subsequent  to 
1778,  but  this  circumstance  by  no  means  militates  against 
the  probability  of  her  having  suffered  by  a  more  summary 
process,  if  her  conduct  had  exposed  her  to  merit  it,  and  if  it 
was  thought  proper  to  inflict  upon  her  capital  punishment. 
The  private  annals  of  the  great  houses  and  sovereigns  of 
the  German  empire,  if  they  were  divulged,  would  furnish 
numerous  instances  of  similar  severity  exercised  in  their 
own  families,  during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies. Count  Koningsmark  fell  a  victim  at  Hanover  to 
the  resentment  of  Ernest  Augustus,  father  of  George  the 
First,  and  we  know  how  narrowly  the  great  Frederick, 
afterwards  king  of  Prussia,  escaped  falling  by  the  same 
weapon  which  beheaded  his  companion  Kaat,  arbitrarily 
sacrificed  by  Frederick  William  the  First,  for  only  endeavor- 
ing to  facilitate  the  prince's  evasion  from  his  father's  court. 
But  notwithstanding  these  reasonable  conjectures,  nothing 
certain  has  ever  been  discovered  as  to  who  the  lady  was, 
thus  secretly  punished  or  sacrificed. 


THE     MUSEUM. 


THE  ASSASSIN  OF  SMOLENSKO. 

THE  following  dreadful  event  lately  occurred  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Smolensko,  in  Russia.  The  owner  of  a 
lonely  cottage  being  out  on  the  chase,  a  beggar,  to  all 
appearance  old  and  weak,  entered  it  at  noon-day,  and 
asked  alms  of  the  woman  who  was  at  home  with  only  her 
two  young  children.  The  kind-hearted  woman  invites  him 
to  rest  himself,  while  she  goes  out  to  get  something  for  him 
to  eat  and  drink.  After  the  beggar  had  satisfied  his  hun- 
ger, he,  to  the  no  small  astonishment  of  the  woman, 
assumed  a  different  language,  and  with  a  threatening  voice, 
demanded  the  money  which  he  knew,  he  said,  her  husband 
had  in  the  house.  The  wretch  rushing  on  her  with  a  large 
bread  knife,  to  force  her  to  acknowledge  where  it  was  depo- 
sited, she  declared  herself  ready  to  give  him  what  money 
she  had,  and  for  this  purpose  mounted  a  ladder  to  a  trap 
door  leading  to  the  loft  above.  As  soon  as  she  had  mounted 
she  drew  up  the  ladder  after  her,  so  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  get  at  her.  Finding  that  she  disregarded  his 
menaces,  he  seized  the  two  children,  and  swore  he  would 
either  kill  or  maim  them,  if  she  did  not  immediately  come 
down  and  deliver  him  the  money  as  she  had  promised. 
The  woman,  however,  remained  in  the  loft,  and  endeavored 
to  force  a  hole  through  the  thatch,  and  call  for  help. 
While  she  was  thus  employed,  the  monster  cut  off  the 
children's  ears  and  noses ;  and  at  last  killed  the  poor 
maimed  innocents,  scornfully  proclaiming  to  the  mother  the 
murder  he  had  committed.  The  latter  having  with  great 
exertions  made  a  hole  in  the  roof,  called  aloud  for  help. 
Her  cries  were  heard  by  an  officer,  who  was  passing  by  in 
an  open  carriage,  who  sent  his  servant  (while  he  remained 
sitting  in  the  carriage,)  to  inquire  what  was  the  matter. 
The  servant  hastened  to  the  spot,  but  on  entering  the  cot- 
tage was  met  by  the  murderer,  who  plunged  the  knife  into 
his  heart,  so  that  he  fell  and  expired  without  a  groan.  The 
officer,  surprised  at  his  delay,  went  himself  to  the  cottage, 
where  perceiving  the  horrid  scene,  he  attempted  to  stop  the 
flight  of  the  murderer,  and  with  his  sabre  cut  off  all  the 
fingers  of  his  right  hand,  but  was  not  able  to  hinder  him 


THE     MUSEUM.  J3 

from  embracing  the  opportunity  to  escape  through  the  door 
as  it  stood  open.  The  woman  had,  while  all  this  was 
passing,  made  her  way  through  the  roof,  and  run  to  the 
village,  which  was  at  a  pretty  considerable  distance,  to  fetch 
assistance.  Meantime  the  husband,  on  his  way  home, 
meets  the  blood-stained  murderer,  whom  he  recognizes  as 
the  beggar  who  frequents  that  part  of  the  country.  The 
hypocrite  concealing  his  fears  under  affected  lamentation, 
held  up  his  mutilated  hand,  saying : — "  Make  haste  !  there 
is  in  your  house  a  murderer,  an  officer,  who  has  killed  your 
children,  and  likewise  a  man  who  attempted  to  defend 
them,  and  from  whom  I  have  narrowly  escaped  in  the  con- 
dition you  see."  The  terrified  countryman,  while  the  atro- 
cious villain  hastens  to  escape,  flies  with  his  loaded  gun  in 
his  hand,  to  his  cottage,  perceives  through  the  open  door 
the  officer  and  the  bloody  corpses  of  his  children,  takes  him 
of  course  for  the  murderer,  levels  his  piece,  and  shoots  him 
dead  on  the  spot !  The  wife  coming  up  with  villagers, 
hears  the  shot,  sees  the  officer  fall,  utters  a  piercing  cry,  and 
exclaims  : — "  What  have  you  done  ?  You  have  killed  our 
deliverer — not  he,  but  the  beggar  is  the  murderer  of  our 
children !"  The  husband,  whose  whole  frame  is  shaken  by 
the  horror  of  the  scene,  and  still  more  by  his  own  rash  deed, 
stands  a  few  moments  petrified  and  motionless,  falls  back 
in  a  fit  and  expires. 


PIOUS  FRAUD  OF  THE  DOMINICAN  MONKS. 

THE  two  orders  of  Franciscans  and  Dominicans  had  been 
at  open  enmity  with  each  other  ever  since  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. The  latter  had  lost  a  great  part  of  their  credit  with 
the  people,  on  account  of  their  not  paying  so  much  honor  to 
the  Virgin  Mary,  as  their  antagonists  the  Franciscans,  and 
their  agreeing  with  St.  Thomas  d'Aquinas,  in  denying  her 
the  privileges  of  having  been  born  without  sin.  The  Fran- 
ciscans, on  the  other  hand,  gained  ground  daily,  by  preaching 
upon  all  occasions  the  doctrine  of  immaculate  conception, 
maintained  by  St.  Bonaventure.  The  mutual  hatred  between 
these  two  orders  was  so  great,  that  in  1503,  a  Franciscan 

24 


14  THE     MUSEUM. 

happened  to  preach  in  Frankfort,  and  one  Wigand,  a  Do- 
minican, coming  into  the  church,  the  Cordelier,  seeing  him, 
broke  out  into  exclamations,  praising  God  that  he  was 
not  of  an  order  that  profaned  the  virgin,  or  that  poisoned 
princes  at  the  sacrament,  (for  a  Dominican  had  poisoned  the 
Emperor  Henry  VII.  with  the  sacrament.)  Wigand,  being 
extremely  provoked  with  this  severe  reproach,  gave  him  the 
lie :  upon  this  a  dispute  arose,  which  ended  in  a  tumult,  that 
had  almost  cost  the  Dominican  his  life ;  yet  he  got  away. 

The  whole  order  resolved  to  take  their  revenge ;  and  in  a 
chapter  held  at  Vimpsen,  in  the  year  1504,  they  contrived  a 
method  for  supporting  the  credit  of  their  order,  which  was 
much  sunk  in  the  opinion  of  the  people,  and  for  bearing  down 
the  reputation  of  the  Franciscans.  Four  of  the  friars,  un- 
dertook to  manage  the  design  :  for  they  said,  that  since  the 
people  were  so  much  disposed  to  believe  dreams  and  fables, 
they  must  dream  on  their  side,  and  endeavor  to  cheat  the 
people,  as  well  as  the  others  had  done.  They  resolved  to 
make  Berne,  the  scene  in  which  the  project  should  be  put  in 
execution  :  for  they  found  the  people  of  Berne,  at  that  time 
apt  to  swallow  any  thing,  and  not  disposed  to  make  severe 
inquiries  into  extraordinary  matters.  When  they  had  form- 
ed their  design,  a  fit  tool  presented  itself;  for  one  Jetzer 
came  to  take  the  habit,  as  a  lay-brother,  who  had  all  the  dis- 
positions that  were  necessary  for  the  execution  of  the  pro- 
ject ;  for  he  was  extremely  simple,  and  much  inclined  to  aus- 
terities. Having  observed  Jetzer's  temper  Avell,  they  began 
to  execute  their  project  the  very  night  after  he  took  the 
habit,  which  was  on  Layday,  1507,  when  one  of  the  friars 
secretly  conveyed  himself  into  his  cell,  and  appeared  to  him 
as  if  he  had  been  in  purgatory  in  a  strange  figure ;  and  he 
had  a  box  near  his  mouth,  which  as  he  blew,  fire  seemed  to 
come  out  of  his  mouth.  He  had  also  some  dogs  about  him, 
that  appeared  as  his  tormentors. 

In  this  posture  he  came  near  to  Jetzer,  while  he  was  in 
bed,  and  took  up  a  celebrated  story,  which  they  used  to  tell 
to  all  the  friars,  to  beget  in  them  a  great  dread  of  laying 
aside  their  habit ;  which  was  that  one  of  their  order,  who 
was  superior  of  their  house  at  Solotourn,  had  gone  to  Paris, 
but  laying  aside  his  habit  was  killed  in  a  lay  habit.  He 
told  him  further,  that  he  was  that  person,  and  was  condemn- 


THE    MUSEUM.  15 

ed  to  purgatory  for  that  crime ;  but  that  he  might  be  res- 
cued out  of  it  by  his  means ;  and  he  seconded  this  with  the 
most  horrible  cries,  expressing  the  miseries  which  he  suffer- 
ed. The  poor  friar  Jetzer  was  excessively  frightened ;  but 
the  other  advanced,  and  required  a  promise  of  him  to  do 
that  which  he  should  desire,  in  order  to  the  delivering  him 
out  of  his  torments.  The  frightened  friar  promised  what- 
ever he  should  ask.  Then  said  the  other,  "  I  know  thou  art 
a  great  saint,  and  thy  prayers  and  mortifications  will  pre- 
vail; but  they  must  be  very  extraordinary.  The  whole 
monastery  must  for  a  week  together  discipline  themselves 
with  a  whip  and  thou  must  lie  prostrate  in  the  form  of  a  cross, 
in  one  of  the  chapels,  while  mass  is  saying,  in  the  sight  of 
all  that  shall  come  together  to  it.  If  thou  doest  thus,  thou 
shall  find  the  good  effect  thereof  in  the  love  that  the  blessed 
virgin  doth  bear  thee :  but  I  will  appear  again  unto  thee, 
accompanied  with  two  other  spirits ;  and  I  assure  thee  that 
all  that  thou  shall  suffer  for  my  deliverance  shall  be  most 
gloriously  rewarded." 

Morning  was  no  sooner  come,  than  the  friar  gave  an  ac- 
count of  this  apparition  to  the  rest  of  the  convent,  who  all 
seemed  extremely  surprised  at  it,  and  pressed  him  to  undergo 
the  discipline  thai  was  enjoined  him,  and  every  one  under- 
took to  bear  his  share  :  so  the  deluded  friar  performed  il  all 
exactly  in  one  of  the  chapels  of  their  church.  This  drew  a 
vast  number  of  spectators  together,  who  all  considered  the 
poor  friar  as  a  saint ;  and  in  the  mean  time  the  four  friars 
that  carried  on  the  imposture  magnified  in  their  sermons  the 
miracle  of  the  apparition.  Friar  Jetzer's  confessor  was  in 
the  secret,  and  by  this  means  they  knew  all  the  little  pas- 
sages in  the  poor  friar's  life,  even  to  his  thoughts,  which  was 
no  small  help  to  them  in  this  affair.  The  confessor  gave 
him  a  host  with  a  piece  of  wood,  which  was,  as  he  pretended, 
a  true  piece  of  the  cross,  and  by  these  he  was  to  fortify  him- 
self, if  any  more  apparitions  should  come  to  disturb  him, 
since  evil  spirits  would  certainly  be  chained  up  by  them. 

The  next  night  the  former  apparition  was  renewed,  and 
with  him  two  other  friars,  whom  poor  Jetzer  thought  were 
devils  indeed.  According  to  his  confessor's  directions,  he  im- 
mediately presented  the  host  to  them,  which  gave  them  such 
a  check,  that  he  was  fully  satisfied  of  the  virtue  of  the  preserv 


16  THE    MUSEUM. 

ative :  and  the  friar,  who  pretended  he  was  suffering  in  pur- 
gatory, said  so  many  things  relating  to  the  secrets  of  Jetzer's 
life  and  thoughts,  that  the  poor  man  had  now  no  reason  to 
doubt  of  the  reality  of  the  apparition. 

In  two  of  these  visions,  that  were  managed  both  in  the  same 
manner,  the  friar  in  the  mask  talked  much  of  the  Dominican 
order,  which  he  said  was  excessively  dear  to  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin, who  knew  herself  to  be  conceived  in  original  sin  ;  and 
that  the  doctors  who  taught  the  contrary,  were  in  purgatory. 
That  the  story  of  St.  Bernard's  appearing  with  a  spot  on  him, 
for  having  opposed  the  feast  of  the  conception,  was  a  forgery  ; 
but  that  it  was  true  that  some  hideous  flies  had  appeared  on 
St.  Bonaventure's  tomb,  who  taught  the  contrary  ;  that  the 
Blessed  Virgin  abhorred  the  Cordeliers  for  making  her  equal 
to  her  son  ;  that  Scotus  was  damned,  whose  canonization  the 
Cordeliers  were  then  soliciting  hard  at  Rome :  and  that  the 
town  of  Berne  would  be  destroyed  for  harboring  such  plaguea 
within  their  walls. 

When  the  enjoined  discipline  was  fully  performed,  the  spiril 
appeared  again,  and  said  he  was  now  relieved  out  of  purga- 
tory :  but  before  he  could  be  received  into  heaven,  he  must 
receive  the  sacrament,  having  died  without  it ;  and  that  he 
would  say  mass  for  those,  who  had  by  their  great  charities 
rescued  him  out  of  his  pains.  Jetzer  fancied  the  voice  re- 
sembled the  prior's ;  but  he  was  then  so  far  from  suspecting 
any  deceit,  that  he  gave  no  great  heed  to  this  suspicion.  Some 
days  after,  the  same  friar  appeared  as  a  nun,  all  in  glory,  and 
told  the  poor  friar  that  she  was  St.  Barbara,  for  whom  he  had 
a  particular  devotion  ;  and  added,  that  the  Blessed  Virgin 
Mary  was  so  pleased  with  his  charity,  that  she  intended  to 
come  and  visit  him.  He  immediately  called  the  convent  to- 
gether, and  gave  his  brethren  an  account  of  this  apparition, 
which  was  entertained  by  them  all  with  great  joy,  and  the 
friar  languished  with  desire  for  the  accomplishment  of  the 
promise  that  St.  Barbara  had  made  him. 

After  some  days  the  longed  for  delusion  appeared  to  him, 
clothed  as  the  Virgin  used  to  be  on  the  great  festivals,  and  in- 
deed in  the  same  habit.  There  were  some  angels  hovering 
about  her,  which  he  afterwards  found  were  the  little  statues 
of  angels,  which  they  set  upon  their  altars  on  the  great  holi- 
days ;  and  by  a  pulley  and  cord  were  made  to  rise  up  and  fly 


THE    MUSEUM.  17 

about  the  virgin,  which  increased  the  delusion.  The  virgin, 
after  some  endearments  to  him,  extolling  the  merits  of  his 
charity  and  discipline,  told  him,  that  she  was  conceived  in 
original  sin,  and  that  Pope  Julius  II.,  who  then  sat  in  the 
chair,  was  to  put  an  end  to  the  dispute,  and  was  to  abolish 
the  feast  of  the  conception,  which  Sixtus  IV.  had  instituted  ; 
and  the  friar  was  to  be  the  instrument  of  persuading  the  pope 
of  the  truth  of  this  matter.  She  then  gave  him  three  drops 
of  her  son's  blood,  which  were  three  tears  of  blood  that  he 
had  shed  over  Jerusalem :  and  signified  that  she  was  three 
hours  in  original  sin,  after  which  she  was  by  his  mercy  deliv- 
ered out  of  that  state.  She  also  gave  him  five  drops  of  blood 
in  the  form  of  a  cross,  which  were  tears  of  blood  that  she  had 
shed  when  her  son  was  on  the  £ross ;  and  to  convince  him 
more  fully,  she  presented  him  with  a  host  that  appeared  as  an 
ordinary  host,  but  suddenly  changed  its  color  into  deep  red. 
These  visits  were  often  repeated  to  the  abused  friar.  At  last 
the  virgin  told  him,  that  she  was  to  give  him  such  marks  of 
her  son's  love  to  him,  that  the  matter  should  be  past  all  doubt. 
She  said,  that  the  five  wounds  of  St.  Lucia  and  St.  Catherine 
were  real  wounds,  and  she  would  also  imprint  them  on  him. 
So  she  bid  him  reach  out  his  hand.  He  had  no  great  mind 
to  receive  a  favor  in  which  he  was  to  suffer  so  much ;  but  she 
forced  his  hand,  and  struck  a  nail  through  it.  This  threw 
him  out  of  a  supposed  transport  into  a  real  agony  ;  but  she 
seemed  to  touch  his  hand,  and  he  thought  he  smelt  an  oint- 
ment with  which  she  anointed  him,  though  his  confessor  per- 
suaded him  that  was  only  his  imagination,  for  that  it  was 
healed  by  miracle  without  ointment. 

The  next  night  the  virgin  returned  again,  and  brought 
him  some  linen  cloths,  which  had  the  virtue  to  allay  his  tor- 
ments, and  the  virgin  said  they  were  some  of  the  linen  in 
which  her  son  was  wrapped.  She  then  gave  him  a  soporife- 
rous  draught ;  and  while  he  was  asleep  the  other  four  wounds 
were  imprinted  on  his  body  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  felt 
no  pain. 

When  he  awoke  he  felt  this  wonderful  impression  on  his 
body,  and  was  transported  beyond  measure,  and  fancied 
himself  to  be  acting  all  the  pains  of  our  Saviour's  passion. 
He  was  exposed  to  the  people  on  the  great  altar,  to  the 
great  amazement  of  the  whole  town,  and  to  the  no  small 

24* 


18  THE    MUSEUM. 

mortification  of  the  Franciscans.  The  Dominicans. gave 
him  some  other  draughts,  which  threw  him  into  convul- 
sions ;  and  when  he  came  out  of  these,  a  voice  was  heard 
proceeding  from  the  image  of  the  virgin  with  a  little 
Jesus  in  her  arms,  and  the  virgin  seemed  to  shed  tears ; 
which  a  painter  had  drawn  upon  her  face  so  lively,  that  all 
the  people  were  deceived  by  it.  The  voice  came  through 
a  hole,  which  yet  remains,  and  runs  from  one  of  the  cells 
along  a  great  part  of  the  wall  of  the  church :  a  friar 
spoke  through  a  pipe,  and  at  the  end  of  the  hole  was  the 
image  of  the  virgin.  The  little  Jesus  asked  his  mother 
why  she  wept?  She  answered,  because  his  honor  was 
given  unto  her,  since  it  was  said,  that  she  was  born  with- 
out sin.  In  conclusion,  the  friars  so  over-acted  this  matter, 
that  at  last  even  the  poor  deluded  friar  himself  came  to 
discover  it,  and  was  resolved  to  quit  the  order. 

It  was  in  vain  to  delude  him  with  more  apparitions,  for 
he  almost  killed  a  friar  that  came  to  him,  personating  the 
virgin  in  another  shape,  with  a  crown  on  her  head.  He 
also  overheard  the  friars  once  talking  among  themselves 
of  the  contrivance  and  success  of  the  imposture  so  plainly, 
that  he  discovered  the  whole  affair ;  upon  which,  as  may 
easily  be  imagined,  he  was  filled  with  all  the  horror  with 
which  such  a  discovery  could  inspire  him. 

The  friars  fearing  that  an  imposture  carried  on  hitherto 
with  so  much  success,  should  be  quite  spoiled  and  turned 
against  them,  thought  the  surest  way  was  to  own  the 
whole  matter  to  him ;  and  to  engage  him  to  carry  on  the 
cheat,  they  told  him  in  what  esteem  he  would  be,  if  he 
continued  to  support  the  reputation  he  had  acquired,  and 
would  become  the  chief  person  of  the  order :  they  there- 
fore persuaded  him  to  go  on  with  the  imposture.  But 
afterwards,  fearing  lest  he  should  discover  all,  they  resolved 
to  poison  him :  of  which  he  was  so  apprehensive,  that 
once  a  loaf  being  brought  to  him,  prepared  with  some 
spices,  he  kept  it  some  time,  and  then  it  growing  green,  he 
threw  it  to  some  wolf's  whelps  that  were  in  the  monastery, 
who  died  immediately.  His  constitution  was  so  vigorous, 
that  though  they  gave  him  poison  five  several  times,  he 
was  but  little  hurt  by  it.  At  last  they  forced  him  to  take  a 
poisoned  host,  which  \  e  vomited  up  soon  after  he  had  swal 


THE     MUSEUM.  19 

lowed  it.  Then  they  whipped  him  with  an  iron  chain, 
and  girded  him  about  so  tight  with  it,  that  to  avoid  further 
torments,  he  swore,  in  the  most  imprecating  terms,  that  he 
would  never  discover  the  secret,  but  would  still  carry  it  on. 
Thus  he  deluded  them,  till  he  found  an  opportunity  of  get- 
ting out  of  the  convent,  and  throwing  himself  into  the 
hands  of  the  magistrates,  to  whom  he  discovered  all. 

The  four  friars  were  seized  and  put  into  prison,  and  an 
account  of  the  whole  affair  was  sent  first  to  the  bishop  of 
Lausanne,  and  then  to  Rome  ;  and  it  may  be  easily  sup- 
posed that  the  Franciscans  took  all  possible  care  to  have  it 
fully  examined  into.  The  bishops  of  Lausanne  and  Zyon, 
with  the  provincial  of  the  Dominicans,  were  appointed  to 
form  the  process.  The  four  friars  first  excepted  to  Jetzer's 
credit ;  but  that  not  availing  them,  they  confessed  the  im- 
posture. About  a  year  after,  a  Spanish  bishop  came, 
authorized  with  full  powers  from  Rome ;  and  the  whole 
cheat  being  particularly  examined  into,  and  fully  proved, 
the  four  friars  were  solemnly  degraded  from  their  priest- 
hood, and  on  the  last  day  of  May,  1509,  were  burnt  in  a 
meadow  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  before  the  gate  of 
Berne,  and  over  against  the  great  church. 

The  place  of  their  execution  was  shown  me  (says 
bishop  Burnet)  as  well  as  the  hole  in  the  wall  through 
which  the  voice  was  conveyed  to  the  image.  It  was  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  blackest,  and  yet  the  best  carried  on 
cheats  that  has  ever  been  known.  And  no  doubt,  had  the 
poor  friar  died  before  the  discovery,  it  had  passed  down  to 
posterity  as  one  of  the  greatest  miracles ;  and  it  gives  a 
shrewd  suspicion,  that  many  of  the  other  miracles  of 
that  church  were  of  the  same  nature,  but  more  suc- 
sessfulby  finished. 


EXTRAORDINARY     ADVENTURES     OP     THE     DUCHESS     OF 
KINGSTON. 

THE  Duchess,  in  one  of  her  peregrinations,  met  with  a 
person  habited  like  a  pilgrim.  He  was  well  made,  had  a 
penetrating  eye,  and  the  whole  of  his  countenance  was 


20  THE    MUSEUM. 

expressive.  Though  he  was  much  inclined  to  cultivate  an 
intimacy  with  the  duchess,  he  chose  rather  to  correspond 
than  converse  with  her,  from  a  consciousness  that  he  was 
more  capable  of  shining  in  the  former  than  in  the  latter 
capacity.  Flattery  was  the  means  by  which  he  resolved 
to  attempt  making  an  impression  upon  her  mind ;  and  in 
this  design  he  succeeded.  Soon  after  leaving  the  duchess, 
his  correspondence  commenced  ;  and  he  took  care  that  his 
letters  abounded  with  professions  of  admiration  of  her  illus- 
trious character.  This  was  of  all  language  the  most 
agreeable  to  her  disposition.  She  became  enamoured  with 
the  pilgrim  ;  and  there  being  something  mysterious  in  his 
7uanner  and  garb,  felt  a  strong  desire  to  obtain  an  explana- 
tion of  every  circumstance.  This  gratification,  however, 
was  denied,  and  the  only  favor  she  could  obtain  was,  a  pro- 
mise to  meet  her  at  another  time.  Meanwhile,  the  cor- 
respondence continued,  and  still  in  the  same  adulatory 
strain.  At  last,  when  the  appointed  time  arrived,  the 
duchess,  instead  of  a  pilgrim,  met  with  an  Abbe. 

The  account  the  stranger  now  gave  of  himself  was  as 
follows :  that  he  was  by  birth  an  Albanian  Prince ;  had 
travelled  through  Europe  under  different  disguises,  and  had 
only  formed  attachments  with  the  most  exalted  personages. 
At  Berlin,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  was  honored 
with  the  friendship  of  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia ;  at  Rome 
he  was  intimately  acquainted  with  most  of  the  cardinals ; 
their  Neapolitan  Majesties  particularly  honored  him  with  their 
esteem  ;  and  with  the  emperor  of  Germany  he  represented 
himself  as  on  a  footing  of  the  most  cordial  familiarity. 
This  artifice  operated  upon  the  vanity  of  the  duchess  like  a 
charm.  The  name  of  the  stranger  was  now  asked,  and 
he  announced  his  travelling  appellation  to  be  "  Worta." 
Who  Worta  was,  the  duchess  never  thought  of  making 
any  inquiry ;  she  took  it  for  granted  that  he  was  a  very 
great  man.  The  diamond  box,  was  exhibited  to  Worta 
for  his  admiration,  and  he  praised  it  in  terms  the  most  hy- 
perbolical. A  valuable  ring  was  presented  to  him,  and  as 
a  prince,  it  was  deemed  gracious  to  receive  it.  At  last  he 
thought  proper  to  make  known  the  object  which  he  had  in 
view.  Worta  having  satisfied  himself  with  the  visits  he 
had  made  to  the  different  courts,  proposed  returning  to  his 


THE    MUSEUM.  21 

own  country ;  and  could  he  be  honored  with  such  a  partner 
as  the  duchess,  he  would  consider  himself  as  the  happiest 
man  in  the  world.  The  infatuated  duchess  listened  to  his 
address  with  infinite  pleasure ;  and  had  there  not  been  an 
insurmountable  obstacle  to  any  connubial  alliance,  it  is  be- 
yond a  doubt  that  she  would  have  given  her  hand  and 
fortune  to  the  adventurer.  This  Worta  had  in  fact,  very 
recently  committed  several  forgeries  in  Holland,  and  being 
apprehended,  despatched  himself  by  poison. 

The  addresses  of  this  impostor  were  soon  succeeded  by 
those  of  a  real  prince,  who,  after  an  attachment  which  had 
subsisted  twenty  years,  made  the  duchess  an  offer  of  his 
hand.  This  personage  was  Prince  Radzivil,  an  illustri- 
ous Pole,  and  who  had  pretensions  to  the  crown  of  Po- 
land. The  duchess  first  met  him  on  a  visit  to  the  court 
of  Saxony.  He  lived  in  a  style  of  splendor,  which  excited 
the  admiration  of  those  who  knew  not  the  amount  of  his 
immense  revenues.  Struck  with  the  grandeur  of  his  state, 
the  duchess  practised  every  ingratiating  art  which  might 
attract  his  regard  ;  and  she  proved  so  far  successful  as  to  en- 
gage the  heart  of  the  prince  in  her  favor.  This  was  all 
that  she  desired ;  for  the  consequences  of  the  engagement 
were  magnificent  presents,  and  correspondence  main- 
tained during  a  succession  of  years.  When  the  duchess 
was  about  making  a  second  visit  to  Petersburg,  promising 
to  travel  thither  by  land,  she  intimated  in  a  letter  to  Prince 
Radzivil,  her  intention  of  taking  his  dominions  in  her 
route.  The  prince,  whose  affection  had  not  been  abated 
by  time,  received  the  accounts  of  her  determination  with 
pleasure.  The  place  of  meeting  was  fixed ;  and  the  ex- 
tremely romantic  style  in  which  the  interview  was  con- 
ducted, deserves  a  description. 

The  place  of  rendezvous  was  Berge.  a  village  in  a 
duchy  within  the  territories  of  the  prince,  and  about  40 
miles  from  Riga.  On  the  duchess'  arrival,  she  was  waited 
on  by  an  officer  in  the  retinue  of  the  prince,  who  was  com- 
missioned to  inform  her  grace,  that  his  master  proposed  to 
dispense  with  the  ceremonials  of  rank,  and  visit  her  as  a 
friend.  Accordingly,  next  morning  the  visit  took  place, 
and  was  conducted  in  the  following  manner. 

Prince  Radzivil  came  with  40  carriages,  each  drawn  by 


22  THE    MUSEUM. 

six  horses.  In  the  different  vehicles  were  his  nieces,  the 
ladies  of  his  principality,  and  other  illustrious  characters. 
Resides  these,  there  were  six  hundred  horses  led  in 
train,  one  thousand  dogs,  and  several  boars.  A  guard 
of  hussars  completed  the  suite.  So  extraordinary  an 
assembly,  in  a  country  surrounded  by  wood,  gave  an 
air  of  romance  to  the  interview,  which  was  still  more 
heightened  by  the  manner  in  which  the  prince  contrived 
to  amuse  his  female  visitor.  He  made  two  feasts,  and  they 
were  ordered  in  the  following  style.  The  prince  had  pre- 
viously caused  a  village  to  be  erected,  consisting  of  forty 
houses  all  of  wood,  and  fancifully  decorated  with  leaves 
and  branches.  The  houses  were  disposed  in  the  form 
of  a  circle,  in  the  middle  of  which  were  erected  three  spa- 
cious rooms,  one  for  the  prince,  a  second  for  his  suite,  and 
the  third  for  the  repast.  Entering  the  village,  in  the  way 
to  the  rooms,  all  the  houses  were  shut,  and  the  inhabitants 
appeared  to  have  retired  to  rest.  The  entertainment  be- 
gan with  splendid  fireworks  on  an  adjoining  piece  of  water, 
and  two  vessels  encountered  each  other  in  a  rnock  engage- 
ment. This  was  succeeded  by  the  feast,  at  which  every 
thing  was  served  on  plate,  and  the  dishes  were  extremely 
sumptuous.  The  duchess,  delighted  with  so  superb  a  re- 
ception, entered  with  all  her  exhilaration  of  spirits  into  the 
festivity  of  the  evening,  and  amused  the  company  with 
her  enchanting  voice. 

When  the  feast  was  ended,  Prince  Radzivil  conducted 
the  duchess  to  the  village,  the  houses  of  which  were  before 
shut.  On  a  sudden,  they  were  converted  into  40  open  shops, 
brilliantly  decorated,  and  containing  the  richest  commodities 
of  different  kinds.  From  these  shops  the  prince  selected  a 
variety  of  articles,  which  he  presented  to  his  mistress.  They 
consisted  of  a  magnificent  topaz,  rings,  boxes,  and  trinkets  of 
all  descriptions.  The  company  then  returned  to  the  rooms, 
which  were  thrown  into  one,  and  a  ball  was  opened  by  Prince 
Radzivil  and  the  Duchess.  The  dances  being  concluded, 
the  company  quitted  the  ball-room,  and  in  an  instant  it  was 
in  a  blaze ;  combustible  matter  having  been  previously  dis- 
posed for  the  purpose,  and  the  people  of  the  village  were  seen 
dancing  round  the  fire.  This  entertaintment  is  supposed  to 
have  cost  Prince  Radzivil  upwards  of  50UOZ. 


THEMUSEUM.  23 

The  prince's  gallantry,  however,  did  not  terminate  with 
this  scene.  At  a  country-seat  10  miles  from  Nicciffuis,  his 
favourite  town,  he  gave  the  duchess  a  second  feast,  followed 
by  a  boar-hunt,  for  which  purpose  the  animals  had  been 
brought.  The  hunt  was  in  a  wood  at  night.  A  regiment 
of  hussars,  with  lighted  torches  in  their  hands,  formed  a  circle, 
within  which  were  huntsmen  also  with  torches.  The  boar, 
thus  surrounded  with  fire,  was  frightened,  and  after  the  usual 
sport,  he  fell  a  victim  to  his  pursuers.  A  great  number  of 
the  Polish  nobility  attended  at  this  hunt.  During  14  days 
that  the  duchess  remained  with  Prince  Radzivil,  she  dined 
and  slept  in  different  houses  belonging  to  the  prince.  As  the 
retinue  moved  from  place  to  place,  they  on  every  third  or 
fourth  day,  met  a  camp  formed  of  the  prince's  own  guard. 
On  the  journey  from  Nicciffuis,  at  night  the  roads  were  illu- 
minated, guards  accompanied  as  an  escort,  and  on  the  arrival 
of  the  duchess  at  the  different  towns  belonging  to  the  prince, 
the  magistrates  waited  on  her  with  congratulations  and  can- 
non were  fired. 

After  such  a  magnificent  profusion  of  compliments,  it  may 
appear  astonishing  that  the  heart  of  the  duchess  should  be 
insensible  to  the  gallantries  of  the  Polish  prince.  Yet  such, 
on  this  occasion,  was  the  natural  perverseness  of  her  tem- 
per, that  at  the  moment  of  her  being  complimented  with  a 
feu  dejoie,  she  only  thus  expressed  her  sentiments  of  the 
prince's  treatment :  "  He  may  fire  as  much  as  he  pleases 
but  he  shall  not  hit  the  mark  !"  These  are  said  to  have 
been  precisely  the  words  she  used. 

The  duchess,  during  her  residence  in  Poland,  had  also 
the  honor  to  be  entertained  by  Count  Oginski,  a  nobleman 
who  was  held  in  the  highest  estimation  by  the  late  King  of 
Prussia.  At  a  concert  which  he  gave  the  duchess,  he  per- 
formed on  six  different  instruments.  His  establishment 
for  musical  entertainments  cost  him  every  year  about 
25,000  pounds  of  our  money.  He  had  a  theatre  in  which 
plays,  in  the  French,  German,  and  Polish  languages,  were 
acted.  He  purchased  horses  from  the  remotest  countries. 
One  which  he  showed  the  duchess,  was  brought  from  Je- 
rusalem. 

She  continued  a  few  days  at  this  nobleman's  house,  and 
Prince  Radzivil,  accompanying  her  thither,  an  emulation 


24  THE    MUSEUM. 

seemed  to  prevail  who  should  show  her  the  greatest  atten- 
tion. But  the  utmost  civilities  could  make  no  lasting  im- 
pression on  a  mind  so  destitute  of  sensibility. 

Among  the  worthless  objects  that  partook  of  the  lady's 
occasional  benefactions,  was  the  notorious  Semple,  whom 
she  liberated  from  the  prison  of  Calais,  by  compounding 
with  his  creditors. 

Of  the  qualities  of  the  duchess  of  Kingston,  the  most  pre- 
dominant seemed  to  be  a  masculine  kind  of  courage.  She 
had  always  a  brace  of  loaded  pistols  at  the  side  of  her  bed, 
and  her  female  domestics  had  orders  never  to  enter  hei 
chamber  unless  the  bell  rang,  lest  by  sudden  surprise  she 
might  be  induced  to  fire  at  them.  In  her  travelling  carriage 
there  were  fire-arms,  and  once,  on  her  route  to  Petersburgh, 
she  discharged  a  case  of  pistols  at  a  party  supposed  to  have 
inimical  designs.  This  heroism  she  is  said  to  have  inherited 
from  her  mother. 

The  duchess  enjoyed  through  life  a  sound  state  of  health. 
Except  an  attack  at  Petersburgh,  when  an  epidemic  disorder 
prevailed,  and  the  fever  with  which  she  was  seized  on  her  re- 
turn from  Rome  to  meet  her  trial,  she  experienced  not  a  day's 
illness.  The  method  she  took  to  preserve  health,  was  that 
of  inuring  herself  to  hardiness.  The  severest  cold  neither 
discomposed  her  feelings,  nor  prevented  her  from  prosecuting 
a  journey.  She  admitted  fires  in  her  apartments,  rather  from 
fashion  than  inclination.  For  a  slight  indication  of  the  gout, 
she  instantly  plunged  her  feet  into  cold  water ,  and  bleeding, 
whether  proper  or  not,  was  the  universal  remedy  to  which  she 
had  recourse  in  any  casual  complaint. 

In  person,  she  was  rather  under  the  middle  stature ;  her 
limbs  were  not  remarkable  for  symmetry ;  her  motions  were 
not  graceful ;  nor  was  she  endowed  with  the  sensibility  and 
retiring  delicacy  of  manner,  which,  of  all  others,  is  woman's 
most  captivating  quality.  Her  features  were  agreeable,  her 
eyes  piercing,  and  her  complexion  glowed  with  the  indications 
of  health  and  vivacity.  On  the  whole,  her  appearance  was 
extremely  engaging  ;  and  had  the  virtues  and  accomplish- 
ments of  her  mind  been  answerable  to  her  exterior  endow- 
ments, she  must  have  commanded  universal  esteem  as  well 
as  love  and  admiration.  But  the  vanity,  the  inconstancy, 
the  caprice,  and  eccentricity  of  her  conduct  prevailed  in  so 


THE     MUSEUM  .  25 

intolerable  a  degree,  that  notwithstanding  an  immense  for- 
tune, she  lived  almost  without  a  friend,  and  died  entirely 
unregretted. 


MATTHEW  LOVAT. 

MATTHEW  LOVAT  presents  an  extraordinary  and  deplo- 
rable instance  of  religious  melancholy.  Born  at  Casale,  a 
hamlet  belonging  to  the  parish  of  Soldo,  in  the  territory  of 
Belluno,  of  poor  parents,  employed  in  the  coarsest  and  most 
laborious  works  of  husbandry,  and  fixed  to  a  place  remote 
from  almost  all  society,  his  imagination  was  so  forcibly  smit- 
ten with  the  view  of  the  easy  and  comfortable  lives  of  the 
rector  and  his  curate,  who  were  the  only  persons  in  the  whole 
parish  exempted  from  the  labors  of  the  field,  arid  who  en- 
grossed all  the  power  and  consequence,  which  the  little  world 
wherein  Matthew  lived  had  presented  to  his  eyes,  that  he 
made  an  effort  to  prepare  himself  for  the  priesthood,  and 
placed  himself  under  the  tuition  of  the  curate,  who  taught  him 
to  read  and  to  write  a  little.  But  the  poverty  of  his  family 
was  an  effectual  bar  to  his  desire ;  he  was  obliged  to  renounce 
study  for  ever,  and  to  betake  himself  to  the  trade  of  a  shoe- 
maker. 

Having  become  a  shoemaker  from  necessity,  he  never  suc- 
ceeded either  as  a  neat  or  expeditious  workman.  The  seden- 
tary life,  and  the  silence  to  which  apprentices  are  condemned 
in  the  shops  of  the  masters  abroad,  formed  in  him  the  habit  of 
meditation,  and  rendered  him  gloomy  and  taciturn.  As  age 
increased,  he  became  subject  in  the  spring  to  giddiness  in  his 
head,  and  eruptions  of  a  leprous  appearance  showed  them- 
selves on  his  face  and  hands. 

Until  the  month  of  July,  1802,  Matthew  Lovat  did  nothing 
extraordinary.  His  life  was  regular  and  uniform ;  his  hab- 
its were  simple,  and  nothing  distinguished  him,  but  an  ex- 
treme degree  of  devotion.  He  spoke  on  no  other  subject  than 
the  affairs  of  the  church.  Its  festivals  and  fasts,  with  sermons, 
saints,  &c.  constituted  the  topics  of  his  conversation.  It  was 
at  this  date,  that  in  imitation  of  the  early  devotees,  he  deter- 
mined to  disarm  the  tempter  by  mutilating  himself.  He  ef- 

80 


26  THE    MUSEUM. 

fected  his  purpose  without  having  anticipated  the  species  of 
celebrity  which  the  operation  was  to  procure  for  him  ;  and 
which  compelled  the  poor  creature  to  keep  himself  shut  up  in 
his  house,  from  which  he  did  not  dare  to  stir  for  some  time; 
not  even  to  go  to  mass.  At  length,  on  the  13th  of  Novem- 
ber, in  the  same  year,  he  went  to  Venice,  where  a  younger 
brother,  named  Angelo,  conducted  Matthew  to  the  house  of  a 
widow,  the  relict  of  Andrew  Osgualda,  with  whom  he  lodged, 
until  the  21st  of  September,  in  the  following  year,  working 
assiduously  at  his  trade,  and  without  exhibiting  any  signs  of 
madness.  But  on  the  above  mentioned  day,  he  made  an  at- 
tempt to  crucify  himself,  in  the  middle  of  the  street  called  the 
Cross  of  Biri,  upon  a  frame  which  he  had  constructed  of  the 
timber  of  his  bed  ;  he  was  prevented  from  accomplishing  his 
purpose  by  several  people,  who  came  upon  him  just  as  he  was 
driving  the  nail  into  his  left  foot.  His  landlady  dismissed  him 
from  her  house,  lest  he  should  perform  a  like  exploit  there. 
Being  interrogated  repeatedly  as  to  the  motive  for  his  self- 
crucifixion,  he  maintained  an  obstinate  silence,  except,  that 
he  once  said  to  his  brother,  that  that  day  was  the  festival  of 
St.  Matthew,  and  that  he  could  give  no  farther  explanation. 
Some  days  after  this  affair,  he  set  out  for  his  own  country, 
where  he  remained  a  certain  time ;  but  afterwards  returned 
to  Venice,  and  in  July,  1805,  lodged  in  a  room  in  the  third 
floor  of  a  house,  in  the  street  Delle  Monache. 

Here  his  old  ideas  of  crucifixion  laid  hold  of  him  again. 
He  wrought  a  little  every  day  in  forming  the  instrument 
of  his  torture,  and  provided  himself  with  the  necessary 
articles  of  nails,  ropes,  bands,  the  crown  of  thorns, 
&c.  As  he  foresaw  that  it  would  be  extremely  difficult  to 
fasten  himself  securely  upon  the  cross,  he  made  a  net  of 
small  cords  capable  of  supporting  his  weight,  in  case  he 
should  happen  to  discharge  himself  from  it.  This  net  he 
secured  at  the  bottom,  by  fastening  it  in  a  knot  at  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  perpendicular  beam,  a  little  below 
the  brncket  designed  to  support  his  feet,  and  the  other  end 
was  stretched  to  the  extremities  of  the  transverse  spar, 
which  formed  the  arms  of  the  cross,  so  that  it  had  the 
appearance,  in  front,  of  a  purse  turned  upside  down.  From 
the  middle  of  the  upper  extemity  of  the  net,  thus  placed, 
Jroceeded  one  rope,  and  from  the  point  at  which  the  twe 


T  H  E    M  U  S  E  U  M  .  27 

spars  forming  the  cross  intersected  each  other,  a  second 
rope  proceeded,  both  of  which  were  firmly  tied  to  a  beam 
in  the  inside  of  the  chamber,  immediately  above  the  win- 
dow, of  which  the  parapet,  was  very  low,  and  the  length 
of  these  ropes  was  just  sufficient  to  allow  the  cross  to  rest 
horizontally  upon  the  floor  of  the  apartment. 

These  cruel  preparations  being  ended,  Matthew  stripped 
himself  naked,  and  proceeded  to  crown  himself  with 
thorns ;  of  which  two  or  three  pierced  the  skin  which 
covers  the  forehead.  He  next  bound  a  white  handkerchief 
round  his  loins  and  thighs,  leaving  the  rest  of  his  body 
bare ;  then,  passing  his  legs  between  the  net  and  the  cross, 
seating  himself  upon  it,  he  took  one  of  the  nails  destined 
for  his  hands,  of  which  the  point  was  smooth  and  sharp, 
and  introducing  it  into  the  palm  of  the  left,  he  drove  it,  by 
striking  its  head  on  the  floor,  until  the  half  had  appeared 
through  the  back  of  the  hand.  He  now  adjusted  his  feet 
to  the  bracket  which  had  been  prepared  to  receive  them, 
the  right  over  the  left;  and  taking  a  nail  five  French 
inches  and  a  half  long,  of  which  the  point  was  also 
polished  and  sharp,  and  placing  it  on  the  upper  foot  with  his 
left  hand,  he  drove  it  with  a  mallet  which  he  held  in  his 
right,  until  it  not  only  penetrated  both  his  feet,  but  entering 
the  hole  prepared  for  it  in  the  bracket,  made  its  way  so  far 
through  the  tree  of  the  cross,  as  to  fasten  the  victim  firmly 
to  it.  He  planted  the  third  nail  in  his  right  hand  as  he 
had  managed  with  regard  to  the  left ;  and  having  bound 
himself  by  the  middle  to  the  perpendicular  beam  of  the 
cross  by  a  cord,  which  he  had  previously  stretched  under 
him,  he  set  about  inflicting  the  wound  in  the  side  with  a 
cobbler's  knife,  which  he  had  placed  by  him  for  this  opera- 
tion, and  which  he  said  represented  the  spear  of  the  pas- 
sion. It  did  not  occur  to  him,  however,  at  the  moment, 
that  the  wound  ought  to  be  in  the  right  side,  and  not  in 
the  left,  and  in  the  cavity  of  the  breast,  and  not  of  the  hy- 
pocondre,  where  he  struck  himself  transversely  two  inches 
below  the  left  hypocondre,  towards  the  internal  angle  of 
the  abdominal  cavity,  without,  however,  injuring  the  parts 
which  this  cavity  contains.  Whether  fear  checked  his 
hand,  or  whether  he  intended  to  plunge  the  instrument  to  a 
great  depth,  it  is  not  easy  to  determine :  but  there  were  ob- 


28  THE    MUSEUM. 

served  near  the  wound  several  scratches  across  his  body, 
which  scarcely  divided  the  skin. 

These  extraordinary  operations  being  concluded,  it  was 
now  necessary,  in  order  to  complete  the  execution  of  the 
whole  plan  which  he  had  conceived,  that  Matthew  should 
exhibit  himself  upon  the  cross  to  the  eyes  of  the  public ; — 
and  he  realized  this  part  of  it  in  the  following  way.  The 
cross  was  laid  horizontally  on  the  floor,  its  lower  extremity 
resting  upon  the  parapet  of  the  window,  which  was  very 
low.  then  raising  himself  up  by  pressing  upon  the  points 
of  his  fingers,  (for  the  nails  did  not  allow  him  to  use  his 
whole  hand  either  opened  or  closed,)  he  made  several 
springs  forward,  until  the  portion  of  the  cross  which  was 
protruded  over  the  parapet,  overbalancing  what  wras  within 
the  chamber,  the  whole  frame,  with  Matthew  upon  it, 
darted  out  at  the  window,  and  remained  suspended  outside 
of  the  house  by  the  ropes  which  were  secured  to  the  beam 
in  the  side.  In  this  predicament  the  poor  fanatic  stretched 
his  hands  to  the  extremities  of  the  transverse  beam  which 
formed  the  arms  of  the  cross,  to  insert  the  nails  into  the 
holes  which  had  been  prepared  for  them ;  but  whether 
it  was  out  of  his  power  to  fix  both,  or  whether  he 
was  obliged  to  use  the  right  on  some  concluding  opera- 
tion, the  fact  is,  that  when  he  was  seen  by  the  people  who 
passed  in  the  street,  he  was  suspended  under  the  window, 
with  only  his  left  hand  nailed  to  the  cross,  while  his  righ^ 
hung  parallel  to  his  body,  on  the  outside  of  the  net.  It 
was  then  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  As  soon  as  he  was 
perceived,  some  humane  people  ran  up  stairs,  disengaged 
him  from  the  cross,  and  put  him  to  bed.  A  surgeon  of  the 
neighborhood  was  called,  who  made  them  plunge  his  feet 
into  water,  introduced  tow  by  way  of  caddis  into  the 
wound  of  the  hypocondre,  which  he  assured  them  did  not 
penetrate  into  the  cavity,  and  after  having  prescribed  some 
cordial,  instantly  took  his  departure. 

At  this  moment,  Dr.  Ruggieri,  professor  of  clinical  sur- 
gery, hearing  what  had  taken  place,  instantly  repaired  to 
the  lodging  of  Lovat,  to  witness  with  his  own  eyes  a  fact 
which  appeared  to  exceed  all  belief.  When  he  arrived 
there,  accompanied  by  the  surgeon  Pagononi,  Matthew's 
feet,  from  which  there  had  issued  but  a  small  quantity  of 


THEMTTSEUM.  29 

blood,  were  still  in  the  water : — his  eyes  were  shut — he 
made  no  reply  to  the  questions  which  were  addressed  to  him: 
his  pulse  was  convulsive,  and  respiration  had  become  dim- 
cult.  With  the  permission  of  the  Director  of  Police,  who 
had  come  to  take  cognizance  of  what  had  happened,  Dr. 
Ruggieri,  caused  the  patient  to  be  conveyed  by  water  to 
the  Imperial  Clinical  school,  established  at  the  Hospital  of 
St.  Luke  and  St.  John.  During  the  passage,  the  only 
thing  he  said  was  to  his  brother  Angelo,  who  accompanied 
him  in  the  boat,  and  was  lamenting  his  extravagance : 
which  was,  "  alas  !  I  am  very  unfortunate."  At  the  hos- 
pital, an  examination  of  his  wounds  took  place ;  and  it 
was  ascertained  that  the  nails  had  entered  by  the  palm  of 
the  hands,  and  gone  out  at  the  back,  making  their  way 
between  the  bones  of  the  metacarpus,  without  inflicting  any 
injury  upon  them  ;  that  the  nail  which  wounded  the  feet 
had  entered  first  the  right,  between  the  second  and  third 
bones  of  the  metatarsus  towards  their  posterior  extremity ; 
and  then  the  left  between  the  first  and  second  of  the  same 
bones,  the  latter  of  which  it  had  laid  bare  and  grazed :  and 
lastly,  that  the  wound  of  the  hypocondre  penetrated  to  the 
point  of  the  cavity.  The  patient  was  placed  in  an  easy 
position.  He  was  tranquil  and  docile :  the  wounds  in  the 
extremities  were  treated  with  emollients  and  sedatives. 
On  the  fifth  day  they  suppurated,  with  a  slight  redness  in 
their  circumference :  and  on  the  eighth,  that  of  the  hypo- 
condre was  perfectly  healed. 

The  patient  never  spoke.  Always  sombre  and  shut  up 
in  himself,  his  eyes  were  almost  constantly  closed.  Inter- 
rogated several  times,  relative  to  the  motive  which  had 
induced  him  to  crucify  himself,  he  always  made  this 
answer :  "  The  pride  of  man  must  be  mortified,  it  must 
expire  on  the  cross."  Dr.  Ruggieri,  thinking  that  he 
might  be  restrained  by  the  presence  of  his  pupils,  returned 
repeatedly  to  the  subject  when  with  him  alone,  and  he 
always  answered  in  the  same  terms.  He  was,  in  fact,  so 
deeply  persuaded  that  the  supreme  will  had  imposed  upon 
him,  the  obligation  of  dying  upon  the  cross,  that  he  wished 
to  inform  the  tribunal  of  justice  of  the  destiny  which  it  be- 
hoved him  to  fulfil,  with  the  view  of  preventing  all  suspicion 
that  his  death  might  have  been  the  work  of  any  other  hand 

25* 


30  THE    MUSEUM. 

than  his  own.  With  this  in  prospect,  and  long  before  his 
martyrdom,  he  committed  his  ideas  to  paper,  in  a  style  and 
character  such  as  would  be  expected  from  his  education, 
and  disorder  of  his  mind. 

Scarcely  was  he  able  to  support  in  his  hand  the  weight 
of  a  book,  when  he  took  the  prayer  book,  and  read  it  all 
day  long.  On  the  first  days  of  August,  all  his  wounds 
were  completely  cured ;  £,nd  as  he  felt  no  pain  or  difficulty 
in  moving  his  hands  and  feet,  he  expressed  a  wish  to  go  out 
of  the  hospital,  that  he  might  not,  as  he  said,  eat  the  bread 
of  idleness.  This  request  being  denied  to  him,  he  passed 
a  whole  day  without  taking  any  food  ,  and  finding  that  his 
clothes  were  kept  from  him,  he  set  out  one  afternoon  in  his 
shirt,  but  was  soon  brought  back  by  the  servants.  The 
board  of  police  gave  orders  that  he  should  be  conveyed  to 
the  Lunatic  Asylum,  eatablished  at  St.  Servolo,  where  he 
was  placed  on  the  20th  of  August,  1805.  After  the  first 
eight  days  he  became  taciturn,  and  refused  every  species 
of  meat  and  drink.  It  was  impossible  to  make  him  swal- 
low even  a  drop  of  water  during  six  successive  days.  To- 
wards the  morning  of  the  7th  day,  being  importuned  by 
another  madman,  he  consented  to  take  a  little  nourish- 
ment. He  continued  to  eat  about  fifteen  days,  and  then 
resumed  his  fast,  which  he  prolonged  during  eleven. 

These  fasts  were  repeated  and  of  longer  or  shorter  dura- 
tion, the  most  protracted,  however,  not  exceeding  twelve 
days. 

In  January,  1806,  there  appeared  in  him  symptoms  of 
consumption,  and  he  would  remain  immovable,  exposed  to 
the  heat  of  the  sun,  until  the  skin  of  his  face  began  to  peel 
off,  and  it  was  necessary  to  employ  force  to  drag  him  into  the 
shade. 

In  April,  exhaustion  proceeded  rapidly,  laboring  in  his 
breast  was  observed,  the  pulse  was  very  low,  and  on  the 
morning  of  the  8th.  he  expired  after  a  short  struggle. 


THE    MUSEUM.  81 


MIRACULOUS     ESCAPE     FROM    THE    ROYAL    SERPENT    AT 
CEYLON. 

"  THE  forests  of  Ceylon,"  says  a  recent  Dutch  traveller 
in  that  country,  "  have  almost  always  something  in  them 
so  inexpressibly  great  and  majestic,  that  instantly  fills  the 
soul  with  astonishment  and  admiration. 

"  Trees  are  there  of  a  prodigious  height  and  thickness,  that 
appear  to  have  outlived  several  ages,  and  whose  closely  inter- 
woven leaves  form  an  impenetrable  shade,  and  afford  a  plea- 
sant and  refreshing  coolness. 

"  How  beautiful  is  nature  when  she  shows  herself  in.  all  her 
magnificence,  or  in  all  her  simplicity,  and  without  the  mis- 
placed additions  and  changes  of  art  !  She  has  then  some- 
thing so  attractive,  something  so  perfectly  congenial  to  the 
original  state  of  our  senses  and  our  soul,  that  1  have  often 
felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  spend  my  days  in  these  terres- 
trial paradises  —  the  forests  of  Ceylon. 

"  I  have  travelled,"  says  he,  "  in  many  forests,  and  traversed 
many  woods  in  various  countries,  but  I  have  never  seen  one 
that  can  in  any  degree  be  compared  to  those  of  this  island  ; 
there,  when  the  sun  shoots  his  burning  rays,  only  a  trem- 
bling and  colored  light  can  be  perceived.  The  loss  of  my 
companion,"  continues  he,  "  who  was  killed  by  an  alligator, 
induced  me  to  think  of  returning  to  Chilaw.  I  did  not  long 
hesitate  about  the  road  I  should  take  ;  to  return  through  the 
wilderness  by  the  way  we  had  come,  was,  in  my  present 
forlorn  situation,  to  expose  myself  to  certain  destruction  :  I 
shuddered  at  the  recollection  of  the  dangers  we  had  encoun- 
tered in  our  approach  to  the  Bocaul  mountains  :  I  therefore 
resolved  to  proceed  along  the  banks  of  a  canal  or  ditch,  up- 
wards of  thirty  feet  deep,  in  the  hope  of  finding  its  source, 
as  it  was  impossible  to  ford  it,  in  consequence  of  the  im- 
mense quantity  of  weeds,  bushes  and  brambles  :  following 
the  bed  of  the  river,  I  continued  my  solitary  way,  much  de- 
pressed in  spirits  at  the  unhappy  fate  of  my  too  venturous 
companion,  until  1  arived  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  rock,  about 
sixty  feet  high,  and  smooth  as  a  wall,  rising  like  an  insur- 
mountable barrier  across  my  path.  I  looked  anxiously  about 
for  some  time,  but  no  passage  or  opening  appeared.  At  this 


32  THEMUSEUM. 

frightful  prospect  my  strength  gave  way — I  sunk  down  upon 
the  earth  ;  in  this  state  I  remained  for  some  time,  almost  be- 
reft of  reason  at  my  hopeless  situation,  until  I  began  to  re- 
flect that  this  despair  only  exhausted  my  remaining  strength, 
and  rendered  me  incapable  of  any  exertion  to  clamber  over 
the  rock.  I  then  got  up  to  examine  the  place  more  closely, 
and  found  my  situation  as  dreadful  as  the  mind  can  form  an 
idea  of:  on  the  left  was  the  canal,  whose  banks,  from  the 
elevation  of  the  ground,  had  become  extremely  steep  and 
high,  and  its  bed  still  seemed  one  solid  mass  of  weeds,  thorns 
and  brambles :  before  me  was  the  rock,  which  on  one  side 
overhung  a  fearful  abyss,  and  on  the  other  extending  far 
into  an,  impenetrable  wood,  thus  completely  shutting  in  the 
small  space  that  lay  between  them  :  there  were,  it  is  true,  at 
distances,  clefts  or  holes  in  the  rock,  but  the  idea  of  hang- 
ing over  this  gulf,  into  which  the  least  false  step  would 
have  plunged  me,  and  dashed  me  in  a  moment  to  atoms  ! 
Besides,  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  leave  my  gun  and 
provisions  (the  only  sources  of  existence  at  such  a  distance 
from  any  habitation)  behind  me,  had  I  ventured  upon  the 
undertaking. 

"  There  remained,  therefore,  no  other  alternative  than  to 
follow  the  direction  of  the  rock  into  the  forest,  and  get  round 
it  if  possible,  or  find  a  place  where  it  was  less  steep,  or  the 
summit  more  easily  attainable ;  but  the  mass  of  thorns,  &c. 
prevented  an  easy  advance. 

"  Struggling  with  disappointment  and  vexation,  I  had  pro- 
ceeded about  fifty  yards  along  the  edge  of  the  wood,  when  I 
had  the  satisfaction  to  perceive  an  opening,  through  which 
with  much  difficulty  I  penetrated  into  the  wood.  Scarcely 
had  1  entered,  when  I  heard  a  loud  hissing  and  uncommon 
7Tiotion  in  a  large  tree  that  stood  some  paces  from  me ;  with 
all  the  speed  terror  would  permit,  I  flew  towards  the  rock  drop- 
ping my  gun  and  provisions  in  my  fright:  before  I  reached 
the  base  of  the  rock,  my  ears  were  again  assailed  with  the 
same  hissing,  but  louder.  In  dreadful  anticipation  of  the 
worst,  I  looked  round,  when  I  saw  a  monstrous  serpent,  of 
enormous  size,  crawling  slowly  out  of  the  opening  I  had  en- 
tered but  a  few  moments  before.  At  this  sight  the  earth 
seemed  to  open  under  my  feet :  I  uttered  a  horrible  yell,  and 
my  courage  and  hope  instantly  forsaking  me,  I  stood  as  if 


MIRACULOUS  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  ROYAL   SERPENT  OF  CEYLON. 
Set  faff  38,  vol.  II. 


THE    MUSEUM.  33 

thunderstruck,  and  could  from  no  resolution.  Where  could 
I  fly?  where  conceal  myself?  I  saw  the  monster  ready  to 
dart  upon  me,  his  eyes  glaring,  and  his  throat  swelling  with 
fury  :  my  situation  was  such  as  cannot  be  described  ;  shut  in 
on  every  side,  death  in  its  most  horrible  form  appeared  cer- 
tain ;  I  had  no  weapon  of  defence,  my  fowling-piece  being 
between  the  serpent  and  the  place  where  I  stood.  An  un- 
conquerable irresolution  still  made  me  hesitate  ;  but  seeing 
the  monster  open  his  immense  jaws,  quicken  his  pace,  and 
now  only  a  few  paces  from  me,  I  sprung  about  five  feet  from 
the  rock,  and  an  equal  height  from  the  ground,  to  lay  hold  of 
a  cleft  with  my  hand.  It  succeeded !  I  remained  for  some 
moments  hanging  by  my  hands  over  the  abyss,  before  I  could 
find  any  small  projection  to  place  my  feet  on,  and  relieve  my 
arms  from  the  weight  of  my  body ;  at  last,  however,  calling 
forth  all  my  strength  and  agility,  I  obtained  a  foot  hold,  and 
seizing  every  projection,  and  holding  fast  by  every  cleft,  1 
reached  the  edge  of  the  rock,  and  drew  myself  to  the  top. 
During  this  anxious  struggle  for  life,  I  expected  every  moment 
to  be  devoured  by  the  monster ;  but,  fortunately,  it  was  not  of 
that  species  that  crawl  upon  their  tails,  with  their  heads 
erect  like  the  Naga.  Being  now  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
serpent,  I  cast  my  eyes  towards  it,  and  observed  it  eating 
greedily  my  rice ;  it  was  what  the  natives  call  the  Pambon 
Rajah,  or  Royal  Serpent ;  it  appeared  at  least  fifty  feet  in 
length,  and  its  body  was  considerably  thicker  than  mine, 
covered  all  over  with  yellow  and  black  spotted  scales  ;  it 
sometimes  raised  its  head,  and  its  general  motion  was  slow 
and  regular. 

"  The  thought  of  the  great  danger  I  had  escaped  from, 
made  me  sensible  of  the  mercy  of  the  Creator,  to  whom  I 
instantly  offered  up  a  grateful  prayer  for  my  astonishing  de- 
liverance." 


STRANGE  CARNIVAL  AT  PETERSBURGH. 

IN  1715,  the  Czarina  of  Russia,  being  brought  to  bed  of  a 
prince,  to  the  unspeakable  joy  of  the  Czar,  the  rejoicing  on 
that  occasion  lasted  eight  days,  and  he  was  also  baptized  by 


34  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  name  of  Peter.  The  solemnities  were  attended  with  the 
most  extraordinary  pomp,  as  splendid  entertainments,  balls, 
and  fireworks  ;  at  one  of  the  entertainments,  three  curious 
pies  were  served  up ;  upon  opening  the  first  at  the  table  of 
the  grandees,  out  stepped  a  female  dwarf,  having  nothing  on 
but  a  head-dress ;  she  made  a  speech  to  the  company,  and 
then  the  pie  was  carried  away ;  at  the  table  of  the  ladies,  a 
male  dwarf  was  served  up  in  the  same  manner  ;  out  of  the 
third,  at  the  table  of  the  gentlemen,  sprung  a  covy  of  twelve 
partridges,  with  such  a  fluttering  noise,  as  greatly  surprised 
the  company ;  in  the  evening  a  noble  firework  was  played 
off,  in  honor  of  the  new-born  Peter,  with  several  curious  de- 
vices, and  on  the  top  of  all  was  this  inscription,  in  large  char- 
acters : 

HOPE  WITH  PATIENCE. 

These  rejoicings  were  followed  by  a  kind  of  carnival ;  the 
Czar  having  united  the  patriarchial  dignity, and  the  great  rev- 
enues belonging  to  it,  to  the  crown,  and  to  render  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Patriarch  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the  people,  he 
appointed  Sotof,  his  jester,  now  in  the  eighty-fourth  year  of 
his  age,  mock-patriarch,  who  on  this  occasion  was  married 
to  a  buxom  widow  of  thirty-four,  and  the  nuptials  of  this  ex- 
traordinary couple  were  celebrated  in  masquerade  by  about 
four  hundred  persons  of  both  sexes,  every  four  persons  hav- 
ing their  proper  dress  and  peculiar  musical  instruments ;  the 
persons  appointed  to  invite  the  company  were  four  of  the 
greatest  stammerers  in  the  kingdom ;  the  four  running  foot- 
men were  the  most  unwieldy,  gouty,  fat  men,  that  could  be 
found ;  the  bridemen,  stewards,  and  waiters,  very  old  men  ; 
and  the  priest  that  joined  them  in  marriage  was  upwards  of 
one  hundred  years  old.  The  procession,  which  began  at  the 
Czar's  palace,  and  crossed  the  river  upon  the  ice,  proceeding 
to  the  great  church  near  the  senate-house,  was  in  the  follow- 
ing order : — first,  a  sledge,  with  the  four  footmen  ;  secondly, 
another  with  the  stammerers,  the  bridemen,  stewards,  and 
waiters ;  then  followed  Knez  Romadanofski,  the  farcical  Czar, 
who  represented  King  David  in  his  dress,  but  instead  of  a 
harp,  had  a  lyre,  covered  with  a  bear-skin,  to  play  upon  ;  and 
he  being  the  chief  character  in  the  show,  his  sledge  was 
made  in  imitation  of  a  throne,  and  he  had  King  David's  crown 


THE    MUSEUM.  35 

upon  his  head,  and  four  bears,  one  at  each  corner,  tied  to  his 
sledge,  by  way  of  footmen,  and  one  behind  standing  and  hold- 
ing the  sledge  with  his  two  paws ;  the  bears  being  all  the 
while  pricked  with  goads,  which  made  them  roar  in  a  fright- 
ful manner  ;  then  the  bridegroom  and  bride,  on  an  elevated 
sledge  made  on  purpose,  surrounded  with  cupids  holding  each 
a  large  horn  in  his  hand  ;  on  the  fore  part  of  the  sledge  was 
placed  by  way  of  coachman,  a  ram  with  very  large  horns ; 
and  behind,  was  a  he-goat,  by  way  of  lackey  ;  behind  them 
followed  a  number  of  other  sledges,  drawn  by  different  kinds 
of  animals,  four  to  each,  as  rams,  goats,  deer,  bulls,  bears, 
dogs,  wolves,  swine,  and  asses  ;  then  came  a  number  of 
sledges,  drawn  by  six  horses  each,  with  the  company ;  the 
sledges  were  made  long,  with  a  bench  in  the  middle,  stuffed 
with  hair,  and  covered  with  cloth  ;  twenty  persons  in  one 
sledge,  sitting  behind  each  other,  as  on  horseback.  The 
procession  no  sooner  began  to  move,  than  all  the  bells  of  the 
city  began  to  ring,  and  all  the  drums  of  the  fort,  towards 
which  they  were  advancing,  began  to  beat  upon  the  ram- 
parts ;  the  different  animals  were  forced  to  make  a  noise  ; 
all  the  company  playing  upon,  or  rattling  their  different  in- 
struments, and  altogether  made  such  a  confused  noise,  that 
it  is  past  description.  The  Czar,  with  his  three  companions, 
Prince  Menzikoff,  and  the  Counts  Apraxin  and  Bruce,  were 
clad  like  Friesland  boors,  each  with  a  drum.  From  church 
the  procession  returned  to  the  palace,  where  all  the  company 
were  entertained  till  twelve  at  night,  when  the  same  pro- 
cession went  by  the  light  of  the  flambeaux  to  the  bride's 
house,  to  see  the  young  married  couple  fairly  bedded. 

This  carnival  lasted  ten  days,  the  company  going  every 
day  from  one  house  to  another,  at  each  of  which  were  tables 
spread  with  all  sorts  of  cold  meat,  and  with  such  abundance 
of  strong  liquors  every  where,  that  there  scarce  was  a  sober 
person  to  be  found  during  that  time  in  Petersburgh.  On  the 
tenth  day,  the  Czar  gave  a  grand  entertainment  at  the  Se- 
nate-house, on  the  close  of  which,  every  one  of  the  guests 
was  presented  with  a  large  glass,  with  a  cover,  called  the 
Double-Eagle,  containing  a  large  bottle  of  wine,  which  every 
body  was  obliged  to  drink ;  to  avoid  this,  "  I,"  says  Mr.  Bruce, 
"  made  my  escape,  pretending  to  the  officer  upon  guard,  that 
I  was  sent  on  a  message  from  the  Czar,  which  he  believing, 


38  T  H  E    M  U  S  E  IT  M  . 

let  me  pass,  and  I  went  to  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Kelderman, 
who  had  formerly  been  one  of  the  Czar's  tutors,  and  was 
still  in  great  favor  with  him ;  Mr.  Kelderman  followed  me 
very  soon,  but  not  before  he  had  drank  his  double-eagle, 
and  coming  into  his  own  house,  he  complained  that  he  was 
sick  with  drinking,  and  sitting  down  by  the  table,  laid  his 
head  on  it.  and  appeared  as  if  fallen  asleep ;  it  being  a  com- 
mon custom  with  him,  his  wife  and  daughters  took  no  no- 
tice of  it,  till  after  some  time  they  observed  him  neither  to 
move  or  breathe,  and  coming  close  up  to  him,  found  he  was 
stiff  and  dead,  which  threw  the  family  into  great  confusion. 
Knowing  the  esteem  in  which  he  stood  with  the  Czar,  I 
went  and  informed  him  of  the  sudden  death  of  Mr.  Kelder- 
man. His  majesty's  concern  at  the  event,  brought  him  im- 
mediately to  the  house,  where  he  condoled  with  the  widow 
for  the  loss  of  her  husband,  and  ordered  an  honorable  burial 
for  the  deceased  at  his  own  expense,  and  provided  an  an- 
nuity for  her  life."  Thus  ended  that  noisy  carnival,  but  it 
was  some  time  before  the  members  could  fully  recover  their 
senses. 


EXECUTION    OF    CECILE    RENAUD. 

AMEE  CECILE  RENAUD,  a  girl  of  nineteen  years  of  age, 
whose  sensibility  it  appears  was  singularly  affected  by  the 
scenes  which  were  passing  before  her,  and  whose  imagina- 
tion, perhaps,  was  somewhat  disordered  by  those  terrible 
impressions,  had  the  courage,  while  an  armed  nation  bowed 
before  its  assassins,  to  enter  alone  and  unarmed  the  monster 
Robespierre's  den  ;  and,  as  it  would  seem,  with  the  intention, 
at  the  expense  of  life,  to  point  out  to  her  countrymen  the 
tyrant  under  whom  they  groaned.  Cecile  Renaud  went 
one  morning  to  the  tyrant's  house,  and  inquired  if  he  was 
at  home.  She  was  answered  in  the  negative  ;  and  being 
asked  what  she  wanted,  replied,  that  she  came  to  see  what 
sort  of  a  thing  a  tyrant  was.  Upon  this  declaration  she 
was  instantly  led  to  the  committee  of  general  safety,  and 
went  through  a  long  examination.  She  again  declared 
with  the  same  simplicity,  that  she  had  come  because  she 


THEMUSETJM.  37 

wanted  to  see  a  tyrant ;  and  upon  being  searched,  no  offen- 
sive weapon  was  found  upon  her,  and  ail  that  was  contained 
in  a  little  bundle,  which  she  held  under  her  arm,  was  a 
change  of  linen,  with  which  she  said  she  had  provided  her- 
self, knowing  she  should  want  it  in  prison. 

The  father,  mother,  and  aunt  of  Cecile  Renaud,  were  led 
with  herself  to  the  Gonciergerie,  where  she  was  again  inter- 
rogated, and  threatened  that  her  whole  family  should  perish 
with  her,  if  she  did  not  confess  her  intention  of  assassinating 
Robespierre.  She  repeated  what  she  had  said  to  the  com- 
mittee ;  and  added,  that  they  might  put  her  to  death  if  they 
thought  proper,  but,  if  she  deserved  to  die,  it  was  not  for  any 
intention  to  assassinate,  but  for  her  anti-republican  senti- 
ments. Cecile  Renaud,  who  was  very  young  and  hand- 
some, was  dressed  with  some  care,  and  perhaps  coquetry. 
Her  appearance  led  her  savage  judges  to  invent  a  new  spe- 
cies of  torture  in  order  to  bring  her  to  confession.  By  their 
direction  she  was  stripped  of  her  own  clothes,  and  covered 
with  squalid  and  disgusting  rags,  in  which  condition  she 
was  made  to  appear  in  the  council-chamber,  and  undergo  a 
new  interrogatory,  where  the  same  menaces  were  repeated, 
and  where  she  answered  as  she  had  done  before ;  and  with 
great  spirit  rallied  her  judges  upon  the  absurdity  of  trying 
to  shake  her  purpose  by  a  mode  of  punishment  so  contemp- 
tible. Notwithstanding  no  proof  of  any  intention  to  assas- 
sinate Robespierre,  could  be  brought  against  her,  she,  to- 
gether with  her  whole  family,  was  put  to  death.  Her  two 
brothers,  who  were  fighting  the  battles  of  the  republic  on 
the  frontiers,  were  ordered  to  be  conducted  to  Paris,  that 
they  might  share  her  fate ;  but  the  tyrants  were  too  impa- 
tient for  blood  to  wait  their  arrival,  and  owing  to  this  cir- 
cumstance they  escaped. 

With  Cecile  Renaud  perished  not  only  her  own  family, 
but  sixty-nine  persons  were  brought  from  different 
parts  and  different  prisons  of  Paris:  who  had  never 
seen  nor  heard  of  each  other  till  they  met  at  the  Con- 
ciergerie,  and  were  together  dragged  before  the  tribunal, 
and  declared  guilty  of  one  comm,on  conspiracy.  Their 
trial  lasted  only  a  sufficient  length  of  time  to  call  over  their 
names :  none  of  them  were  permitted  to  make  any  de 
fence :  the  jury  declared  themselves  satisfied  in  their  souls 

26 


38  THEMTTSEtTM. 

and  consciences;  and  the  devoted  victims,  covered  with 
red  cloaks  worn  by  assassins  on  their  way  to  execution, 
were  led  to  death. 


ARREST    OF  A  FRENCH    OFFICER    BY    THE    INQUISITION. 

THE  Chevalier  de  St.  Gervais,  in  his  Travels  in  Spain, 
gives  the  following  account  of  his  arrest  and  examination 
by  the  Inquisition  of  Barcelona. 

"  After  dinner,  I  went  to  take  a  walk  on  that  beautiful 
terrace  which  extends  along  the  port,  in  that  part  called 
Barcellonette.  I  was  tranquilly  enjoying  this  delightful 
place  and  the  serene  evening  of  a  fine  day,  wrapped  in 
dreams  of  my  projects,  of  my  future  destiny,  and  of  the 
beautiful  Seraphine.  The  sweetly  pensive  shades  of  even- 
ing had  begun  to  veil  the  face  of  the  sky,  when,  on  a  sud- 
den, six  men  surrounded  and  commanded  me  to  follow 
them.  I  replied  by  a  firm  refusal;  whereupon  one  of 
them  seized  me  by  the  collar;  I  instantly  assailed  him 
with  a  violent  blow  upon  the  face,  which  caused  him  to 
bellow  with  pain  {  in  an  instant  the  whole  band  pressed  on 
me  so  closely  that  I  was  obliged  to  draw  my  sword.  I 
fought  as  long  as  I  was  able,  but  not  being  possessed 
of  the  strength  of  Antaeus  or  Hercules,  I  was  at  last  com- 
pelled to  yield.  The  ruffians  endeavored  to  inspire  me 
with  respect  and  dread  of  them,  by  saying  that  they  were 
familiars  of  the  Holy  Office,  and  advised  me  to  surrender, 
that  I  might  escape  disgrace  and  harsh  treatment.  I 
submitted  to  force,  and  I  was  taken  to  the  prison  of  the 
Inquisition. 

"  As  soon  as  I  found  myself  within  the  talons  of  these 
vultures,  I  began  to  ask  myself  what  was  my  crime,  and 
what  I  had  done  to  incur  the  censure  of  this  hateful  tri- 
bunal. Have  these  jacobin  monks,  said  I,  succeeded  to  the 
Druids,  who  called  themselves  the  agents  of  the  Deity,  and 
arrogated  to  themselves  the  right  of  excommunicating  and 
putting  to  death  their  fellow  citizens?  My  complaints 
were  lost  in  empty  air. 

"  On  the  following  day,  Dominican,  shrouded  in  hypo 


T  H  E     M  U  S  E  U  M  .  39 

crisy,  and  with  the  tongue  of  deceit,  came  to  conjure  me, 
by  the  bowels  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  confess  my  faults,  in  order 
to  the  attainment  of  my  liberty.  '  Confess  your  own 
faults,'  said  I  to  him,  '  ask  pardon  of  God  for  your  hypo- 
crisy and  injustice.  By  what  right  do  you  arrest  a  gentle- 
man, a  native  of  France,  who  is  exempted  from  the  juris- 
diction of  your  infernal  tribunal,  and  who  has  done  nothing 
in  violation  of  the  laws  of  this  country?' — 'Oh,  Holy 
Virgin,'  said  he,  '  you  make  me  tremble  !  I  will  go  and 
pray  to  God  in  your  behalf,  and  I  hope  he  will  open  your 
eyes  and  turn  your  heart.'  '  Go  and  pray  to  the  devil,' 
said  I  to  myself,  '  he  is  your  only  divinity.' 

"  However,  on  that  same  day,  Mr.  Aubert,  having  in 
vain  waited  for  me  at  the  dinner  hour,  sent  to  the  hotel  to 
inquire  about  me.  The  landlord  informed  him  that  I  had 
disappeared  on  the  preceding  evening,  that  my  luggage  still 
remained  in  his  custody,  but  that  he  was  entirely  ignorant 
what  was  become  of  me.  This  obliging  gentleman,  un- 
easy for  my  fate,  made  inquiries  concerning  me  over  the 
whole  city,  but  without  being  able  to  gain  the  smallest 
intelligence.  Astonished  at  this  circumstance,  he  began  to 
suspect  that  some  indiscretion  on  my  part  might  have 
drawn  upon  me  the  vengeance  of  the  Holy  Office,  with 
whose  spirit  and  conduct  he  was  well  acquainted.  He 
begged  of  the  captain-general  to  demand  my  enlargement. 
The  inquisitors  denied  the  fact  of  my  detention,  with  the 
utmost  effrontery  of  falsehood  ;  but  Mr.  Aubert,  not  being 
able  to  discover  any  probable  cause  for  my  disappear- 
ance, persisted  in  believing  me  to  be  a  prisoner  in  the 
Holy  Office. 

"  Next  day  the  familiars  came  to  conduct  me  before  the 
three  inquisitors :  they  presented  me  with  a  yellow  mantle 
to  put  on,  but  I  disdainfully  rejected  this  satanic  livery. 
However,  they  persuaded  me  that  submission  was  the  only 
means  by  which  I  could  hope  to  recover  my  liberty.  I 
appeared,  therefore,  clad  in  yellow,  with  a  wax  taper  in  my 
hand,  before  these  priests  of  Pluto.  In  the  chamber  was 
displayed  the  banner  of  the  Holy  Office,  on  which  were 
represented  a  gridiron,  a  pair  of  pincers,  and  a  pile  of  wood, 
with  these  words,  '  Justice,  Charity,  Mercy.'  What  an 
atrocious  piece  of  irony !  I  was  tempted,  more  than  once, 


40  THE     MUSEUM. 

to  singe,  with  my  blazing  taper,  the  hideous  visage  of  one 
of  these  jacobins,  but  my  good  genius  prevented  me.  One 
of  them  advised  me,  with  an  air  of  mildness,  to  confess 
my  sin.  '  My  great  sin,'  replied  I,  '  is  to  have  entered  a 
country  where  the  priests  trample  humanity  under  foot, 
and  assume  the  cloak  of  religion  to  persecute  virtue  and 
innocence.' 

"  '  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?'  '  Yes,  my  conscience 
is  free  from  alarm  and  from  remorse.  Tremble,  if  the  regi- 
ment to  which  I  belong  should  hear  of  my  imprisonment : 
they  would  trample  over  ten  regiments  of  Spaniards  to 
rescue  me  from  your  barbarity.'  '  God  alone  is  master ; 
our  duty  is  to  watch  over  his  flock  as  faithful  shepherds ; 
our  hearts  are  afflicted  ;  but  you  must  return  to  your  pri- 
son, until  you  think  proper  to  make  a  confession  of  your 
fault.'  I  then  retired,  casting  upon  my  judges  a  look  of 
contempt  and  indignation. 

"  As  soon  as  I  returned  to  my  prison,  I  most  anxiously 
considered  what  could  be  the  cause  of  this  severe  treatment. 
I  was  far  from  suspecting  that  it  could  be  owing  to  my 
answer  to  the  mendicant  friar  concerning  the  Virgin  and 
her  lights.*  However,  Mr.  Aubert  being  persuaded  that 
the  Inquisition  alone  had  been  the  cause  of  my  disappear- 
ance, placed  spies  upon  all  their  steps.  One  of  them  in- 
formed him  that  three  monks  of  the  Dominican  order,  were 
about  to  set  out  for  Rome,  being  deputed  to  the  conventual 
assembly  which  was  to  be  held  there.  He  immediately 
wrote  M.  de  Cholet,  commandant  at  Perpignan,  to  inform 
him  how  I  had  disappeared,  of  his  suspicions  as  to  the 
cause,  and  of  the  passage  of  the  three  jacobins  through 
Perpignan,  desiring  him  to  arrest  them,  and  not  to  set  them 
at  liberty  till  I  should  be  released. 

"  M.  de  Cholet  embraced,  with  alacrity,  this  opportunity 
of  vengeance,  and  issued  orders,  at  the  gates  of  the  town, 
to  seize  three  reverend  personages.  They  arrived  about 
noon,  in  high  spirits  and  with  keen  appetites,  and  demand- 
ed of  the  sentinel,  which  was  the  best  hotel.  The  officer 

*  A  mendicant  having  come  to  his  chamber,  with  a  purse,  begging  him 
to  contribute  something  for  the  lights  or  tapers  to  be  lighted  in  honor  of  the 
Virgin,  he  replied,  "  My  good  father,  the  Virgin  has  no  need  of  lights,  she 
need  only  to  go  to  bed  at  an  early  hour." 


THE    MUSEUM.  41 

of  the  guard  presented  himself,  and  informed  them  that  he 
was  commissioned  to  conduct  them  to  the  Commandant 
of  the  place,  who  would  provide  for  their  lodging  and  enter- 
tainment. '  Come,  good  fathers,  M.  de  Cholet  is  deter- 
mined to  dosyou  the  honors  of  the  city.'  In  the  mean  time, 
he  provided  them  an  escort  of  four  soldiers  arid  a  sergeant. 
The  fathers  marched  along  with  joy,  congratulating  one 
another,  and  delighted  with  the  politeness  of  the  French. 
Good  fathers,'  said  M.  de  Cholet,  '  I  am  delighted  to  have 
you  in  this  city,  I  expected  you  impatiently.  I  have  pro- 
vided you  a  lodging.'  '  Ah,  Mr.  Commandant,  you  are  too 
good,  we  are  undeserving.'  '  Pardon  me,  have  you  not,  in 
your  prison  at  Barcelona,  a  French  officer,  the  Chevalier  de 
St.  Gervais?'  'No,  Mr.  Commandant,  we  have  never 
heard  of  any  such  person.'  '  I  am  sorry  for  that,  for  you 
are  to  be  imprisoned,  and  to  live  upon  bread  and  water, 
until  this  officer  be  forthcoming.'  The  reverend  fathers, 
exceedingly  irritated,  exclaimed  against  this  violation  of  the 
law  of  nations,  and  then  said  that  they  resigned  themselves 
to  the  will  of  Heaven,  and  that  the  Commandant  should 
answer  before  God  and  the  pope,  for  the  persecution  he  was 
^bout  to  commence  against  members  of  the  church.  '  Yes,' 
said  the  Commandant,  '  I  take  the  responsibility  upon  my- 
self, meanwhile  you  will  repair  to  the  citadel.' 

"  Now  behold  the  three  hypocrites,  in  a  narrow  prison, 
condemned  to  the  regimen  of  the  Pauls  and  the  Hilaries, 
uttering  the  loudest  exclamations  against  the  system  of 
fasting  and  the  Commandant.  Every  day,  the  purveyor, 
when  he  brought  them  their  pitcher  of  water  and  portion 
of  bread,  demanded  whether  they  had  any  thing  to  declare 
to  the  French  officer.  For  three  days  they  persisted  in  re- 
turning a  negative,  hut  at  length,  the  cries,  not  of  their 
consciences,  but,  of  their  stomachs,  and  their  weai mess  of 
this  mode  of  life,  overcame  their  obstinacy.  They  begged 
an  interview  with  M.  de  Cholet,  who  instantly  waited 
upon  them. 

"  They  confessed  that  a  young  French  officer  was  con- 
fined in  the  prison  of  the  Holy  Office,  on  account  of  the 
impious  language  he  had  held  respecting  the  Virgin.  '  Un- 
doubtedly he  has  acted  wrong,'  said  M.  de  Cholet,  '  but 
allow  the  Virgin  to  avenge  herself.  Write  word  to  Barce- 

26* 


42  THEMUSEUM. 

lona  to  set  this  gentleman  at  liberty.  In  the  interim  I  will 
keep  you  as  hostages,  but  I  will  mitigate  your  sufferings, 
and  your  table  shall  be  less  frugally  supplied.'  The  Monks 
immediately  wrote  word  to  give  liberty  to  the  accused 
Frenchman. 

"  During  this  interval,  vexations,  impatience,  and  weari- 
ness took  possession  of  my  soul,  and  made  me  weary  of  life. 
At  length  the  inquisition,  reading  their  brethren's  letter,  per- 
ceived themselves  under  the  necessity  of  releasing  their  prey. 
One  of  them  came  to  inform  me  that,  in  consideration  of 
my  youth,  and  of  my  being  a  native  of  France,  the  Holy 
Office  had  come  to  a  determination  to  set  me  free,  but  that 
they  required  me,  for  the  future,  to  have  more  respect  for  La 
Madonna,  the  mother  of  Jesus  Christ.  '  Most  reverend  fa- 
ther,' replied  I,  '  the  French  have  always  the  highest  re- 
spect for  the  ladies.'  Uttering  these  words,  I  rushed  towards 
the  door,  and,  when  1  got  into  the  street,  I  felt  as  if  1  were 
raised  from  the  tomb  once  more  to  life." 


INQUISITORIAL    TORTURE    OF    A   FREE    MASON. 

MR.  GUSTOS,  a  native  of  Switzerland,  but  at  the  time  of 
nis  arrest  residing  at  Lisbon,  says,  "  I  was  apprehended  at 
night  as  I  was  leaving  a  hotel,  where  I  had  supped  with 
two  gentlemen,  who,  upon  beholding  the  officers  seize  me, 
instantly  forsook  me  and  fled.  I  was  then  dragged  to  the 
prison  of  the  Inquisition,  stripped  and  searched  ;  and,  after 
being  plundered  of  every  article  which  I  had  about  me,  was 
plunged  into  one  of  the  dungeons  which  are  prepared  for 
the  prisoners.  After  I  had  remained  for  a  whole  day  and 
two  nights  in  this  dreadful  abode,  where  my  ears  were  every 
moment  assailed  by  the  cries  and  groans  of  the  miserable 
inhabitants,  I  was  summoned  to  attend  the  Inquisitors 
Being  conducted  to  their  presence,  they  commanded  me  tc 
kneel  down,  and,  placing  my  right  hand  upon  the  Bible,  to 
swear  that  I.  would  speak  truly  with  regard  to  such  things 
as  they  should  ask  me. 

"  Their  first  questions  were,  my  Christian  and  surnames, 
those  of  my  parents,  the  place  of  my  birth,  my  profession 


THE    MUSEUM.  43 

religion,  and  how  long  I  had  resided  in  Lisbon  ?  After  I 
had  satisfied  them  upon  these  heads,  they  told  me  that  they 
knew,  by  the  best  authority,  that  I  had  spoken  disrespect- 
fully of  the  Holy  Office,  and  accordingly  exhorted  me  to 
make  a  confession  of  all  the  crimes  I  had  ever  committed 
since  I  was  capable  of  distinguishing  good  from  evil.  I  re- 
plied that  I  had  never  spoken  any  thing  against  the  Inqui- 
sition, or  against  the  religion  of  Rome,  and  that  I  had  never 
been  accustomed  to  confess  my  sins  to  any  one  but  to  God 
alone  Upon  which  they  told  me  they  would  allow  me 
time  to  examine  my  conscience,  and  in  the  mean  time  re- 
manded me  to  my  dungeon,  intimating,  that,  should  I  con- 
tinue obstinate,  they  should  know  how  to  employ  such 
means  as  were  placed  in  their  hands  to  compel  me  to  a 
confession. 

"  Upon  my  next  examination,  which  took  place  three 
days  after,  they  questioned  me  very  particularly  about  the 
society  of  free  masons,  its  origin,  constitution,  and  design.  I 
replied  to  all  these  particulars  as  accurately  as  my  knowledge 
permitted  me,  to  which  they  listened  with  some  degree  of 
attention  ;  but  when  I  mentioned  that  charity  was  the  foun- 
dation and  soul  of  this  society,  which  linked  all  the  members 
together  in  the  bonds  of  fraternal  love,  and  made  it  an  in- 
dispensable duty,  to  assist,  in  the  most  generous  manner, 
without  distinction  of  religion,  all  such  persons  as  were  found 
to  be  true  objects  of  compassion,  they  exclaimed  that  I  was 
a  liar,  and  that  it  was  impossible  a  society  should  profess 
such  good  maxims,  and  yet  be  so  jealous  of  its  secrets  as  to 
exclude  women.  They  then  ordered  me  to  withdraw  from 
their  presence,  and  to  be  immured  in  another  dungeon  still 
more  dreadful. 

"  During  my  confinement  in  this  place  I  was  frequently 
summoned  into  the  presence  of  the  Inquisitors.  They  did 
every  thing  which  lay  in  their  power,  by  means  of  entreaties 
and  threats,  to  force  me  to  reveal  the  secret  of  the  society, 
which  they  accused  of  assembling  for  the  most  abominable 
purposes,  and  loudly  exclaimed  against  my  audacity  for 
daring  to  practice  the  mysteries  of  my  profession  in  Lisbon, 
after  it  had  been  so  strictly  forbidden.  They  said  that,  not 
only  had  his  Portuguese  Majesty  forbidden  any  of  his  sub- 
jects to  become  free  masons,  but  that  there  had  been  fixed 


44  THEMTTSEUM. 

up,  five  years  before,  upon  the  doors  of  all  the  churches  of 
Lisbon,  an  order  from  his  ho.,  ness,  strictly  enjoining  the 
Portuguese  in  general  not  to  ;iitei  into  this  society ;  and 
even  excommunicating  all  such  as  then  were,  or  should  af- 
terwards become  members  of  it.  I  answered,  that  if  I  had 
been  guilty  of  any  offence  by  practising  masonry  at  Lisbon, 
it  was  entirely  through  ignorance,  as  I  had  resided  in  that 
city  but  two  years ;  to  which  they  seemed  not  inclined  to 
make  any  reply.  I  was  examined  many  times  after  this, 
in  which  examinations  I  had  several  disputes  with  my 
judges  upon  those  points  upon  which  they  thought  proper 
to  charge  me  with  heresy,  in  addition  to  the  crime  of  being 
a  free  mason.  At  first,  they  endeavored  to  allure  me,  by 
promises  of  favor,  to  abjure  my  errors,  as  they  called  them ; 
and  finding  these  means  ineffectual,  they  next  denounced 
the  entire  weight  of  their  vengeance  against  me,  should  I 
continue  obstinate.  At  length,  perceiving  that  my  constancy 
was  not  to  be  shaken  by  any  means  that  they  could  devise, 
they  informed  me  that  my  trial  must  proceed,  but  let  me 
know,  as  they  dismissed  me  to  my  dungeon,  that  if  I  turned 
a  Roman  Catholic,  it  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  my 
cause,  otherwise  I  might  repent  of  my  obstinacy  when  it 
was  too  late.  Accordingly,  in  a  few  days  more,  I  was  or- 
dered to  an  audience,  when  the  fiscal  proctor  read  my  charges, 
which  contained  the  following  heads. 

"  That  I  had  infringed  the  Pope's  orders,  by  belonging  to 
the  sect  of  free  masons  ;  this  sect  being  a  horrid  compound 
of  sacrilege,  sodomy,  and  many  other  abominable  crimes ;  of 
which  the  inviolable  secrecy  observed  therein,  and  the  exclu- 
sion of  women,  were  but  too  manifest  indications ;  a  circum- 
stance which  gave  the  highest  offence  to  the  whole  kingdom  • 
and  the  said  Gustos  having  refused  to  discover,  to  the  Inqui 
sitors,  the  true  tendency  and  design  of  the  meetings  of  the  free 
masons,  had  persisted  on  the  contrary,  in  asserting,  that  free 
masonry  was  a  good  thing  in  itself;  that,  for  these  reasons, 
the  proctor  insisted,  that  the  prisoner  may  be  prosecuted  with 
the  utmost  rigor ;  and  for  that  purpose,  begged  the  court  to 
exert  its  whole  authority,  even  to  the  tortures,  to  extort  from 
him  a  confession,  that  the  several  articles  here  mentioned 
are  true.  The  Inquisitors  then  gave  me  the  above  heads, 
which  they  ordered  me  to  sign,  but  this  I  absolutely  refused 


THEMUSETTM.  45 

to  do.  They  therefore  commanded  me  to  be  taken  baokto 
my  dungeon,  without  permitting  me  to  say  a  single  word  in 
my  justification.  It  was  not  until  six  weeks  after,  that  I 
was  again  summoned  to  make  my  defence,  with  a  detail  of 
which  I  shall  not  trouble  the  reader.  It  consisted  almost  en- 
tirely, in  a  recapitulation  of  the  answers  which  I  had  made 
upon  my  former  examinations,  and  refutation  of  the  charges 
urged  against  me,  all  of  which  were  utterly  and  absolutely 
false. 

"  After  making  my  defence  I  was  ordered  to  withdraw, 
doubtful  of  the  effect  which  k  had  made  upon  my  judges. 
But  rny  doubts,  were,  in  a  few  days  after,  removed,  when 
the  president  again  sent  for  me,  and  ordered  a  paper  to  be 
read  which  contained  a  part  of  my  sentence.  I  was  thereby 
doomed  to  suffer  the  tortures  employed  by  the  Holy  Office, 
for  refusing  to  tell  the  truth ;  for  my  not  discovering  the  se- 
crets of  masonry,  with  the  true  tendency  and  purpose  of  the 
meeting  of  the  brethren.  Upon  this  I  was  instantly  con- 
veyed to  the  torture  room,  built  in  the  form  of  a  square  tow- 
er, where  no  light  appeared,  but  what  was  given  by  two 
lamps ;  and,  to  prevent  the  dreadful  cries  and  groans  of  the 
unhappy  victims  from  reaching  the  ears  of  the  other  prison- 
ers, the  doors  were  lined  with  a  kind  of  quilt.  The  reader 
may  conceive  the  horror  with  which  I  was  filled,  when,  upon 
entering  the  door  I  was  instantly  surrounded  by  six  execu- 
tioners, who,  after  preparing  the  tortures,  stripped  me  almost 
naked,  and  laid  me  on  my  back  upon  the  floor.  When  I  was 
in  this  posture,  they  first  put  round  my  neck  an  iron  collar, 
which  was  fastened  to  the  scaffold  ;  then  they  fixed  a  ring  to 
each  foot ;  and.  this  being  done,  they  stretched  my  limbs  with 
all  their  might.  They  next  wound  two  ropes  round  each 
arm,  and  two  round  each  thigh,  which  ropes  passed  under 
the  scaffold,  through  holes  made  for  that  purpose,  and  were 
all  drawn  tight,  at  the  same  time,  by  four  men,  upon  a  signal 
made  for  that  purpose. 

"  The  reader  will  believe  that  my  pain  must  have  been  in- 
tolerable, when  I  solemnly  declare,  that  these  ropes,  which 
were  of  the  size  of  one's  little  finger,  pierced  through  my 
flesh  quite  to  the  bone  ;  making  the  blood  gush  out  at  the 
eight  places  which  were  thus  bound.  As  I  persisted  in  re- 
fusing to  disclose  any  thing  more  than  I  had  before  decla- 


46  THE    MUSEUM. 

red,  the  ropes  were  drawn  together  four  different  times.  At 
my  side  stood  a  physician  and  a  surgeon,  who  often  felt  my 
temples,  to  judge  of  the  danger,  I  might  be  in,  by  which 
means  my  tortures  were  suspended  at  intervals,  that  I  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  recovering  myself  a  little. 

"  While  I  thus  suffered,  they  were  so  barbarous  as  to  insult 
me  by  declaring,  that  were  I  to  die  under  the  torture,  I  should 
be  guilty,  by  my  obstinacy,  of  self  murder.  In  fine,  the  last 
time  the  ropes  were  drawn  tight,  I  grew  so  exceedingly 
weak,  occasioned  by  the  circulation  of  my  blood  being  stop- 
ped^ and  the  torments  I  endured,  that  I  fainted  quite  away  ; 
so  that  I  was  carried  back  to  my  dungeon,  in  a  state  of  utter 
insensibility. 

"  These  barbarians,  finding  that  the  tortures  above  descri- 
bed could  not  extort  any  further  confession  from  rne,  were  so 
inhuman,  six  weeks  after,  as  to  expose  me  to  another  kind  of 
torture,  more  grievous  if  possible  than  the  former.  They 
made  me  stretch  my  hands  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  palms 
of  my  hands  were  turned  outwards  :  when,  by  the  help  of  a 
rope,  which  fastened  them  together  at  the  wrist,  and  which 
they  turned  by  an  engine,  they  drew  them  gently  nearer  to 
one  another  behind,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  back  of  each 
hand  touched.,  and  they  stood  exactly  parallel  one  to  the 
other ;  whereby  my  shoulders  were  both  dislocated,  and  a 
considerable  quantity  of  blood  issued  from  my  mouth.  This 
torture  was  repeated  thrice ;  after  which  I  was  again  taken 
to  my  dungeon,  and  put  into  the  hands  of  the  physician 
and  surgeon,  who,  in  setting  my  bones,  put  me  fo  exquisite 
pain. 

"  Two  months  after,  being  a  little  recovered,  I  was  again 
conveyed  to  the  torture-room ;  and  there  forced  to  undergo, 
two  different  times,  another  kind  of  punishment.  The  rea- 
der may  judge  of  its  horror,  from  the  following  description. 
The  torturers  turned,  twice  round  my  body,  a  thick  iron  chain, 
which  crossing  my  stomach,  terminated  at  my  wrists.  They 
next  set  my  back  against  a  thick  board,  at  each  extremity 
of  which  was  a  pulley ;  through  which  a  rope  ran,  that  was 
fastened  to  the  end  of  the  chain  at  my  wrist.  The  tormen- 
tors then,  stretching  these  ropes  by  means  of  a  roller,  pressed 
and  bruised  my  stomach,  in  proportion  as  the  ropes  were 
drawn  tighter.  They  tortured  me  upon  this  occasion  in  so 


THE     MUSEUM.  47 

horrid  a  manner  that  both  my  wrists  and  shoulders  were  put 
out  of  joint. 

"  The  surgeons,  however,  set  them  presently  after ;  but 
the  barbarians,  having  not  yet  satiated  their  cruelty,  made  me 
undergo  this  torture  a  second  time ;  which  I  did  with  great 
pain,  though  with  equal  constancy  and  resolution.  I  was 
then  remanded  to  my  dungeon,  attended  by  the  surgeons 
who  dressed  my  bruises :  and  here  I  remained  until  the  cele- 
bration of  the  next  auto  da  fe. 

"The  reader  may  judge,  from  this  faint  description,  of  the 
dreadful  anguish  which  I  must  have  endured,  the  nine^lif- 
ferent  times  they  put  me  to  the  torture.  Most  of  my  limbs 
were  put  out  of  joint,  and  bruised  in  so  schocking  a  manner, 
that  I  was  unable,  for  many  weeks,  to  move  my  hand  to  my 
mouth ;  my  whole  body  being  also  dreadfully  swelled  -by  the 
inflammations  caused  by  such  frequent  dislocations. 

"  The  day  of  the  auto  da  fe  being  come,  I  was  made  to 
walk  in  the  procession,  with  the  other  victims  of  the  tribu- 
nal. Being  come  to  the  church  of  Saint  Dominic,  my  sen- 
tence was  read,  by  which  I  was  condemned  to  the  galley,  as 
it  is  called,  during  four  years." 


MAGNANIMOUS  FULFILMENT  OF  A  PROMISE. 

A  SPANISH  cavalier  having  killed  a  Moorish  gentleman 
at  Grenada,  in  a  duel,  instantly  fled  from  justice.  He  was 
vigorously  pursued,  but,  availing  himself  of  a  sudden  turn  in 
the  road,  he  leaped,  unperceived,  over  a  garden  wall.  The 
proprietor,  who  was  also  a  Moor,  happened  to  be,  at  that 
time,  walking  in  the  garden,  and  the  Spaniard  fell  upon  his 
knees  before  him,  acquainted  him  with  his  case,  and  in  the 
most  pathetic  manner,  implored  concealment.  The  Moor 
listened  to  him  with  compassion,  and  generously  promised 
hia  assistance.  He  then  locked  him  in  a  summer-house,  and 
left  him.  with  an  assurance,  that  when  night  approached, 
he  would  provide  for  his  escape.  A  few  hours  afterwards, 
the  dead  body  of  his  son  was  brought  to  him,  and  the  de- 
scription of  the  murderer  exactly  agreed  with  the  appearance 
of  the  Spaniard  whom  he  had  then  in  custody.  He  con- 


48  THE    MUSEUM. 

cealed  the  horror  and  suspicion  which  he  felt ;  and  retiring 
to  his  chamber,  remained  there  till  midnight.  Then  going 
privately  into  the  garden,  he  opened  the  door  of  the  summer- 
house,  and  thus  accosted  the  cavalier : — "  Christian  !  the 
youth  whom  you  have  murdered  was  my  only  son.  Your 
crime  merits  the  severest  punishment.  But  I  have  solemnly 
pledged  rny  word  for  your  security :  and  I  disdain  to  violate 
even  a  rash  engagement  with  a  cruel  enemy."  He  conduct- 
ed the  Spaniard  to  the  stables,  and  furnished  him  with 
one  of  his  swiftest  mules.  "  Fly,"  said  he,  "  whilst  the 
darkness  of  the  night  conceals  you — your  hands  are  polluted 
with  blood  ;  but  God  is  just,  and  I  humbly  thank  him  that 
my  faith  is  unspotted,  and  that  I  have  resigned  judgment 
unto  him." 


ARTS    PRACTISED    BY    MADAME    VOISIN,    A    CELEBRATEE 
FORTUNE  TELLER. 

PARIS  was  disgraced  by  a  woman,  named  Voisin,  who  oc- 
casioned many  a  wife  to  be  freed  of  her  husband.  This 
public  pest  never  refused  her  assistance  to  those  who  came 
to  ask  it.  Like  Mede  and  Circe  of  old,  she  understood  the 
effects  of  poison,  and  under  the  pretence  of  diabolical  influ- 
ence, contrived  to  infuse  the  deadly  venom  into  her  victim's 
veins.  When  any  lady  desired  her  to  consult  the  devil,  in 
order  to  ascertain  whether  she  was  likely  to  become  a  widow 
or  not,  if  much  anxiety  were  manifested  on  the  occasion, 
this  sorceress,  after  making  a  variety  of  magical  pretensions, 
would  appoint  a  time  when  the  husband  should  die,  and 
which  she  said  would  be  indicated  by  some  particular  sign  or 
mark  that  could  not  be  mistaken.  Sometimes,  before  the 
husband  was  sacrificed,  certain  valuable  mirrors,  or  china 
vases,  &c.  were  to  be  broken.  These  losses  were  looked 
upon  with  much  delight  by  women  who  had  so  unhappily 
sought  their  husband's  deaths.  It  seldom  happened,  from 
the  skill  of  this  hateful  sorceress  in  slow  and  subtle  poisons, 
that  her  schemes  were  frustrated.  She  had  many  agents, 
and  often  contrived  poisonous  drugs  to  be  given  by  the 
wife's  own  hand.  Frequently  would  she  bribe  the  domes- 


THE    MUSEUM.  49 

tics  of  the  family  where  her  agency  was  sought,  to  break  a 
mirror  or  a  vase,  for  the  purpose  of  strenghlening  the  confi- 
dence reposed  in  her,  and  bringing  about  a  tragical  end. 

Philibert,  the  famous  flute-player,  was  then  in  the  height 
of  his  fame.  He  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  daughter  of  a 
rich  tradesman,  named  Brunei,  who  had  no  other  children. 
She  was  exceedingly  beautiful,  but  very  young ;  her  mo- 
ther, who  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  always  did  the 
honors  of  the  table  when  Philibert  visited  the  house.  The 
good  man,  M.  Brunei,  was  delighted  with  the  prospect  of 
his  daughter's  approaching  marriage,  and  frequently  enter- 
lained  Philiberl  at  his  table;  he  also  often  inviled  him  to  a 
tavern,  and  was  so  much  delighted  with  his  company,  that 
he  could  not  forbear  speaking  in  high  terms  of  praise  of  his 
delightful  vivacity  and  amusing  anecdotes.  His  wife, 
hearing  these  favorable  things  said  of  Philibert  so  repeat- 
edly, raised  in  her  heart  an  envious  wish  at  her  daughter's 
approaching  happiness,  and  a  delermination  lo  possess  the 
object  of  it  herself.  She  had  immediate  recourse  to  the 
wretch  Voisin,  who  gave  her  some  drug,  which  being  ad- 
ministered to  M.  Brunei,  despatched  him  to  another  world. 
His  death  was  represented  at  the  time  as  being  the  effect 
of  apoplexy.  The  nuptials  were  consequently  put  off,  and 
Madame  Brunei  became  mistress  of  the  wealth  and  fate  of 
her  daughter.  When  ihe  lasl  dulies  were  paid  ihe  deceased, 
and  Philiberl  was  anxious  lo  prosecute  his  wishes,  he  was 
told  that  as  circumstances  were  changed,  his  views  ought 
likewise  to  undergo  a  transmutation.  It  w:as  whispered  to 
him,  thai  il  would  be  the  height  of  incivility  lo  ask  ihe  hand 
of  ihe  daughter  when  the  mother  was  unmarried  :  in  short, 
there  was  little  difficulty  in  persuading  him  which  union 
would  be  the  most  advantageous.  Madame  Brunei,  in  a 
marriage  contract  which  was  drawn  up  as  soon  as  decency 
would  permit,  assigned  a  considerable  portion  of  money  to 
Philibert,  and  they  were  married.  The  young  daughter 
was  placed  in  a  convent,  and  Philibert  was  as  happy  as 
riches  and  an  agreeable  wife,  whose  beaulywas  net  entirely 
faded,  could  make  him,  until  an  incident  occurred  which 
occasioned  the  union  lo  lose  its  charms.  Il  pleased  Provi- 
dence lo  overtake  Voisin  in  her  wicked  career,  after  the 
commission  of  so  many  crimes,  which  she  expiated  by  for- 

27 


50  THEMUSEUM. 

feiting  her  life  to  offended  human  justice.  I  do  not  pretend 
to  know  whether  she  escaped  divine  justice,  but  I  am  will- 
ing to  believe  charitably  on  that  head,  as  it  was  confidently 
asserted  that  she  died  very  repentant. 

It  was  this  unhappy  woman's  custom  to  keep  a  register 
of  the  names  of  those  individuals  who  had  recourse  to  her 
guilty  practices,  and  in  that  list  was  found  the  name  of 
Madame  Bruriet.  No  sooner  was  this  discovered,  than  she 
was  taken  into  custody,  convicted,  and  executed  almost  im- 
mediately. Philibert  was  suspected  of  being  a  partner  in 
the  crime,  and  was  enjoined  by  all  his  friends  to  escape ; 
even  the  king  himself  advised  him  to  do  so,  inasmuch  as 
if  he  was  proved  to  be  the  least  concerned  in  the  affair,  no 
pardon  could  be  granted  him.  Philibert  thanked  his 
majesty  for  his  lenient  interference,  but  affirmed  as  his  con- 
science did  not  accuse  him.  he  would  not  give  his  enemies 
cause  for  triumph  by  flight ;  that  he  was  fully  prepared  to 
have  his  conduct  investigated,  and  that  he  anticipated  a 
complete  justification  from  his  judges.  He  offered  to  go  to 
prison,  but  before  he  went,  his  friend  Coteaux  exhorted  him 
on  the  uncertainty  of  human  tribunals  in  an  affair  so  pecu- 
liar, and  with  a  generosity  worthy  of  Pelades  or  Prestes, 
offered  to  partake  his  fortunes  with  him  in  any  place  he 
should  select  for  an  asylum.  "  With  our  talents,"  said  he, 
"my  dear  Philibert,  what  need  we  fear?  there  is  no  sove- 
reign who  will  not  joyfully  receive  us  into  his  court.  Let 
us  seek  another  country  ;  we  cannot  long  remain  strangers; 
and  let  us  traverse  the  whole  world  together,  rather  than  be 
separated."  Philibert  expressed  his  warmest  acknowledg- 
ments for  his  friend's  disinterested  suggestions,  but  remained 
firm  in  his  first  determination,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the 
course  of  justice,  which  acquitted  him  of  the  slightest 
participation  in  the  untimely  end  of  the  wealthy  citizen. 
His  friends  congratulated  him  on  the  happy  termination  of 
the  affair,  and  the  king  permitted  him  to  take  the  forfeited 
property  of  Madame  Brunei. 

The  register  kept  by  Voisin  might  funish  a  number  of 
examples  to  prove  the  truth  of  women  engaging  in  wretch- 
ed affairs  of  guilt.  I  am  unable  to  assign  a  reason  why 
this  unhappy  woman  placed  the  names  of  all  her  appli- 
cants on  a  list.  It  is  pretended  that  it  was  done  in  order  to 


THE    MUSEUM.  51 

compel  all  those  people,  many  of  whom  were  of  the  first  de- 
scription, (in  case  she  should  be  accused  of  crime,)  to  come 
forward  and  defend  her,  because  their  own  safety  would 
depend  upon  her  acquittal.  Notwithstanding,  this  method 
availed  her  nothing,  and  caused  others  to  be  involved  in  her 
ruin. 

Poor  Madame  Talon  was  exceedingly  alarmed  when 
told  by  her  husband  that  her  name  was  on  the  fatal  list. 
Although  her  intentions  had  not  been  criminal,  yet  she 
was  agitated,  and  in  great  fear,  when  the  following  adven- 
ure  transpired.  She  was  informed  by  one  of  her  domestics, 
that  a  man  was  below,  and  wished  to  see  her.  "  Go  and 
inquire  his  name,"  said  she.  How  much  surprised  she  was 
when  the  servant  returned,  saying,  "  that  he  had  directed 
him  to  tell  Madame  Talon  it  was  Grecs  who  was  waiting." 
There  was  a  person  of  that  name,  a  well-known  police- 
officer,  the  terror  of  all  evil  doers,  and  of  the  poor  Hugonots. 

Madame  Talon,  on  hearing  the  name  of  Grecs  pro- 
nounced, gave  herself  up  for  lost.  She  directed  the  avenues 
of  the  apartments  to  be  blockaded,  and  ran  weeping  to  the 
study  of  her  husband,  crying,  "  Save  me,  save  me  !"  Then 
throwing  herself  upon  her  knees,  she  added,  "  True  it  is  I 
went  once,  and  only  once,  to  Voisin's  house,  but  that  was  to 
consult  her  on  a  thing  wholly  confined  to  myself."  She 
afterwards  endeavored  to  throw  herself  from  a  window,  but 
was  prevented.  When  it  was  ascertained  who  the  man 
was  below,  it  occasioned  considerable  merriment,  he  being 
an  upholsterer  named  Grecs,  to  whom  she  had  sent  a  few 
days  before,  but  who  was  not  then  at  home.  In  a  comedy 
called  Madam  Jobin,  or  the  Fortune  Teller,  there  is  a 
scene  representing  the  above  fact ;  and  in  the  play  a  good 
idea  is  given  of  the  manner  in  which  Voisin  duped  people 
with  her  diabolical  arts. 

It  has  .been  my  lot  to  be  acquainted  with  some  who  were 
at  this  woman's  house,  and  as  she  pretended  to  know  many 
hidden  things,  several  persons  visited  her  without  any  cri- 
minal intention — at  least  so  far  as  that  can  be  done  by  one 
who  has  recourse  to  either  magical  arts  or  what  is  believed 
to  be  so.  When  any  one  consulted  Voisin  upon  these  hid- 
den matters,  and  wished  to  explain  something  respecting 
them,  she  would  say,  "  Be  silent,  I  am  not  anxious  to  know 


52  THE    MUSEUM. 

your  affairs  ;  it  is  to  the  spirit  that  you  must  relate  them ; 
for  the  spirit  is  jealous  and  will  not  suffer  any  body  to  know 
his  secrets.  It  is  my  duty  to  request  you  to  obey  him." 
After  this,  she  would  produce  writing-paper,  which  she  re- 
presented as  being  charmed,  upon  which  she  wrote  the 
names,  titles,  and  qualities  of  the  spirit ;  and  then  she  com- 
menced a  letter,  which  the  person  seeking  her  aid  had  to 
finish,  by  asking  questions  respecting  what  was  wanted. 
During  this  time  she  mentioned  a  variety  of  reasons  for  this 
process. 

When  all  the  questions  were  committed  to  writing, 
Voisin  brought  a  vessel  full  of  burning  charcoal  in  one 
of  her  hands,  and  a  piece  of  bees'  wax  in  the  other; 
she  then  directed  the  wax  to  be  enclosed  and  folded  up  in 
the  letter,  and  said  they  would  both  be  destroyed  by  the  fire, 
for  the  spirit  already  knew  what  had  been  written,  and 
would  give  his  reply  in  three  days.  When  this  was  over, 
she  took  the  paper  from  the  person,  and  threw  it — or  rather 
one  like  it,  into  the  fire,  where  it  was  immediately  con- 
sumed. She  always  contrived  to  have  a  piece  of  wax  at 
hand  of  the  same  size,  folded  in  a  similar  piece  of  paper  to 
the  one  written  upon,  and  the  only  difficulty  was,  to  substi- 
tute, without  being  perceived,  the  fictitious  packet,  and 
throw  the  other  into  the  fire.  The  questions  then  written 
to  the  spirit  became  known  to  her,  and  during  the  three 
days  given  for  the  answers  she  gathered  all  the  particulars 
of  the  temper  and  affairs  of  the  individual  she  could.  The 
intrigues  she  had  formed  often  made  her  reply — which  was 
done,  in  the  spirit's  name,  correct.  By  these  tricks  she  ob- 
tained the  name  of  a  sorceress  from  the  simple  ;  but  skill- 
ful people  considered  her  as  an  impostor.  The  late  Mar- 
quis de  Luxurnbourg,  put  to  terrible  fear  the  devil — or 
rather,  the  person  whom  she  employed  to  represent 
him,  when  in  her  presence,  notwithstanding  her  assumed 
powers ;  and  if  things  of  this  nature  were  always  thoroughly 
examined,  their  falsehood  would  certainly  be  ascertained. 
It  is  very  extraordinary  to  me,  why  any  one  should  be  so 
ambitious  to  acquire  reputation  of  so  disgraceful  a  nature. 
Since  the  time  of  Madame  de  Brainvillier,  France  has  not 
contained  so  skillful  a  woman  in  administering  poison  as 
Voisin.  She  left  several  scholars  in  Paris,  but  through  the 


THE    MUSEUM.  53 

vigilance  of  our  Sovereign,  they  were  soon  extirminated, — 
a  thing  deserving  the  praises  of  his  people.  The  day  that 
Voisin  was  condemed,  that  famous  painter,  M.  le  Brun  ob- 
tained permission  to  take  her  likeness,  a  short  time  before 
she  was  conducted  to  the  scaffold,  for  the  purpose  of  observ- 
ing the  impressions  which  the  certainty  of  immediate  death 
produces  in  a  guilty  mind.  This  picture  is  now  placed  in 
the  Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  called  "  The  Horrors  of  Death," 
and  is  considered  the  finest  of  all  M.  le  Brun's  portraits. 
(From  Madame  du  Noyer's  Letters.} 


PROVIDENTIAL    DETECTION    OF    MURDER. 

AT  Riga,  in  1716,  Mr.  Bruce  saw  twelve  men  broke  alive 
upon  the  wheel ;  their  crime  was  as  follows  : — a  man  who 
kept  a  tavern,  or  inn,  without  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city, 
and  had  also  a  windmill  on  his  ground,  having  detected 
one  of  his  men  servants  in  several  frauds,  turned  him  away, 
and  retained  his  wages  for  some  little  indemnification ;  the 
fellow,  at  his  going  away,  threatened  his  master  he  would 
make  him  repent  detaining  his  wages  ;  whereupon  he  went 
and  associated  himself  with  eleven  more  as  bad  as  himself. 
Soon  after  this  they  went  to  the  house  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  meeting  one  of  the  maid  servants  going  for 
water,  they  murdered  her,  and  put  her  body  under  the  ice ; 
they  then  entered  the  house  and  stables,  and  murdered 
three  other  women,  and  five  men  servants  ;  at  last  they 
entered  the  landlord's  apartments,  and  murdered  his  wife 
and  three  of  his  children  before  his  face ;  the  fourth,  a  boy 
of  five  years  old,  had  hid  himself  in  the  confusion,  below  a 
bed,  unperceived  ;  they  then  forced  the  landlord  to  open  all 
his  chests  and  drawers,  and  carried  away  what  was  portable 
and  valuable  out  of  the  house  ;  they  then  tied  the  landlord 
neck  and  heels  to  the  foot  of  a  large  table,  at  which  they 
set  down  and  regaled  themselves  with  the  best  things  the 
house  afforded  :  here  they  concluded,  putting  hay  and  straw 
in  all  the  apartments,  and  then  set  the  house  on  fire,  that 
the  villain  of  a  landlord,  as  they  called  him,  might  be  burnt 
alive,  and  which  would  also  consume  the  murdered  bodies, 

27* 


54  THEMUSEUM. 

and  prevent  any  possibility  of  discovery  ;  and  to  make  all 
sure,  they  brought  the  maid  servant's  body  from  under  the 
ice,  and  laid  it  down  by  her  living  master :  after  this  well 
laid  plot,  they  set  the  house  on  fire,  and  fled  with  their 
booty.  The  little  boy,  who  was  hid  under  the  bed,  was 
forced  from  thence  by  the  smoke,  and  the  father  perceiving 
the  child,  called  to  him,  and  desired  him  to  take  a  knife  out 
of  his  pocket,  and  cut  the  cord  from  off  his  hands,  which 
the  child  did.  The  father  being  thus  cleared,  took  his 
little  son  in  his  arms,  and  made  his  way  through  the  flames, 
and  immediately  retired  into  the  covered  way  of  the  town, 
for  fear  of  being  discovered  by  any  of  the  villains  who  might 
be  still  lurking  near  the  place.  The  house  and  out-houses 
being  all  in  flames,  the  governor  ordered  the  gates  to  be 
opened,  and  sent  out  a  party  of  men  to  try  to  save  what 
they  could  from  the  fire  ;  but  before  they  could  get  to  the 
place  all  was  burnt  to  the  ground  ;  so  that  the  plot  of  those 
villains  was  so  well  laid,  that  if  it  had  not  been  owing  to 
the  miraculous  preservation  of  the  child  and  his  father,  it 
might  have  remained  a  secret  to  this  day.  The  landlord 
discovering  himself  to  the  officer  that  was  at  the  head  of  the 
detachment,  entreated  that  he  might  be  privately  carried  to 
the  governor,  to  whom  he  discovered  the  whole  of  this 
dreadful  scene,  who  gave  orders  to  secure  and  examine  all 
persons  who  should  enter  the  town  that  morning  ;  by  which 
caution,  the  villains,  apprehending  themselves  secure  from 
every  possibility  of  discovery,  as  all  evidence  had  perished 
in  the  fire,  were,  on  their  entering  the  town,  every  one 
taken. 


DISCOVERY    OF    MURDER    BY  THE    SAGACITY    OF    A    DOG. 

A  FAVORITE  dog,  belonging  to  an  English  nobleman, 
had  fallen  into  disgrace,  from  an  incorrigible  habit  of  an- 
noying the  flocks  of  the  neighboring  farmers.  One  of 
these  having  in  vain  driven  the  depredator  from  his  pre- 
mises, came  at  length  to  the  offender's  master,  with  a  dead 
lamb  under  his  arm,  the  victim  of  last  night's  plunder. 
The  nobleman  being  extremely  angry  at  the  dog's  trans- 


THEMUSEUM.  55 

gression,  rang  the  bell  for  his  servant,  and  ordered  him  to 
oe  immediately  hanged,  or  some  other  way  disposed  of,  so 
that,  on  his  return  from  a  journey  he  was  about  to  under- 
take, he  might  never  see  him  again.  He  then  left  the 
apartment,  and  the  fate  of  the  dog  was  for  a  few  hours 
suspended.  The  interval,  though  short,  was  not  thrown 
away.  The  condemned  animal  was  sufficiently  an  adept 
in  the  tones  of  his  master's  voice,  to  believe  there  was  any 
hope  left  for  a  reversion  of  his  sentence.  He  therefore  adopted 
the  only  alternative  between  life  and  death,  by  making 
his  escape.  In  the  course  of  the  evening,  while  the  same 
servant  was  waiting  at  table,  his  lordship  demanded  if  his 
order  had  been  obeyed  respecting  the  dog.  "  After  an  hour's 
search  he  is  nowhere  to  be  found,  my  lord,"  replied  the  servant. 
The  rest  of  the  domestics  were  questioned,  and  their  answers 
similar.  The  general  conclusion  for  some  days  was,  that 
the  dog,  conscious  of  being  in  disgrace,  had  hid  himself  in 
the  house  of  a  tenant,  or  some  other  person  who  knew  him. 
A  month,  however,  passed  without  any  thing  being  heard 
respecting  him,  it  was  therefore  thought  he  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  his  late  accuser,  the  farmer,  and  hanged  for  his 
transgressions. 

About  a  year  after,  while  his  lordship  was  journeying  into 
Scotland,  attended  only  by  one  servant,  a  severe  storm  forced 
him  to  take  shelter  under  a  hovel  belonging  to  a  public 
house,  situated  at  some  distance  from  the  road,  upon  a  heath. 
The  tempest  continuing,  threatening  rather  to  increase  than 
abate,  the  night  coming  on,  and  no  house  suitable  to  the 
accommodation  of  such  a  guest,  his  lordship  was  at  length 
induced  to  dismount,  and  go  into  the  little  inn  adjoining  the 
the  shed.  On  his  entrance,  an  air  of  surprise  and  conster- 
nation marked  the  features  and  conduct  of  both  the  inn-hol- 
der and  his  wife.  Confused  and  incoherent  answers  were 
made  to  common  questions ;  and  soon  after  a  whispering 
took  place  between  the  two  forementioried  persons.  At 
length,  however,  the  guest  was  shown  into  a  small  parlor,  a 
faggot  was  thrown  on  the  fire,  and  such  refreshments  as 
the  house  afforded,  were  preparing,  there  being  no  appear 
ance  whatever  of  more  favorable  weather  allowing  them  to 
depart. 

As  the  servant  maid  was  spreading  the  cloth,  a  visible 


56  THE    MUSEUM. 

tremor  shook  her  frame,  so  that  it  was  not  without  difficulty 
she  performed  her  office.  His  lordship  noticed  a  certain 
strangeness  of  the  whole  group,  but  remembering  to  have 
heard  his  servant  mention  the  words,  "  my  lord,"  as  he 
alighted  from  his  horse,  he  naturally  imputed  this  to  their 
having  unexpectedly  a  guest  in  their  house  above  the  rank 
of  those  whom  they  were  accustomed  to  entertain.  The 
awkwardness  of  intended  respect  in  such  cases,  and  from 
such  persons,  will  often  produce  these  embarrassments.  His 
lordship  having  now  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  that  night, 
supper  was  served ;  when  a  most  unexpected  visitor  made 
nis  appearance.  "  Good  heavens  !"  exclaimed  his  lordship, 
"  Is  it  passible  I  should  find  my  poor  dog  alive,  and  in  this 
place  ? — how  welcome  !"  He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  caress 
his  long  lost  favorite ;  but  the  dog  after  looking  earnestly  at 
his  ancient  master,  shrunk  from  him,  and  kept  aloof,  and 
took  the  first  opportunity  of  the  door  being  opened  to  leave 
the  room  ;  but  still  took  his  station  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door,  as  if  watching  some  expected  event. 

Of  the  dog's  history,  from  the  time  of  his  elopement,  little 
more  resulted  from  inquiry,  than  that  he  had  one  day  follow- 
ed some  drovers  who  came  to  refresh  themselves  and  their 
cattle :  and  that,  appearing  to  be  foot-sore  with  travel,  and 
unable  to  proceed  with  his  companions,  he  staid  in  the  house, 
and  had  remained  there  ever  since.  This  account  was  ob- 
tained from  the  ostler,  who  added,  he  was  as  harmless  a 
creature  as  any  betwixt  Scotland  and  Ireland.  His  lordship, 
intending  to  rise  early  in  the  morning,  to  make  up  the  time 
thus  sacrificed  to  the  night,  which  was  still  stormy,  ordered 
the  servant  to  show  him  to  his  chamber.  As  he  passed  the 
common  room  which  communicated  with  the  parlor,  he  no- 
ticed the  inn-keeper  and  his  wife  in  earnest  discourse  with 
three  men,  muffled  up  in  horsemen's  coats,  who  seemed  to 
have  just  come  from  buffeting  the  tempest  and  not  a  little 
anxious  to  counteract  its  effects;  for  both  the  landlord  and 
his  wife  were  filling  their  glasses  with  spirits.  His  lordship, 
on  going  to  his  chamber,  after  the  maid  and  his  own  servant, 
heard  a  fierce  growl,  as  from  the  top  of  the  stairs.  "  Here  is 
the  dog  again,  my  lord,"  exclaimed  the  servant.  "  He  is  often 
cross  and  churlish  to  strangers,"  observed  the  maid,  "  yet  he 
never  bites."  As  they  came  nearer  the  door,  his  growl  in- 


THE    MUSEUM.  57 

creased  to  a  furious  bark ;  but  upon  the  maid's  speaking  to 
him  sharply,  he  suffered  her  to  enter  the  chamber,  and  the 
servant  stepped  back  to  hold  the  light  to  his  lord.  On  his 
old  master's  advancing  towards  the  chamber,  the  dog  drew 
back,  and  stood  with  a  determined  air  of  opposition,  as  if 
to  guard  the  entrance.  His  lordship  then  called  the  dog 
by  his  name,  and  on  repeating  some  terms  of  fondness, 
which  in  past  times  he  had  familiarly  been  accustomed  to, 
he  licked  the  hand  from  whose  endearments  he  had  been  so 
long  estranged. 

But  he  still  held  firm  to  his  purpose,  and  endeavored  to 
oppose  his  master's  passing  to  the  chamber.  Yet  the  ser- 
vant was  suffered,  without  further  disputing  the  point,  to  go 
out;  not,  however,  without  another  growl,  though  one 
rather  of  anger  than  of  resistance,  and  which  accompanied 
her  with  increased  fierceness  all  the  way  down  stairs,  which 
she  descended  with  the  same  strange  kind  of  hurry  and 
confusion  that  had  marked  her  behavior  ever  since  his  lord- 
ship's arrival.  His  lordship  was  prevented  from  dwelling 
long  on  this  circumstance,  by  an  attention  to  the  dog,  who, 
without  being  solicited  farther,  went  a  few  paces  from  the 
threshhold  of  the  door,  at  which  he  kept  guard  ;  and,  after 
caressing  his  lordship,  and  using  every  gentle  art  of  affec- 
tionate persuasion,  (speech  alone  left  out,)  went  down  one 
of  the  stairs,  as  if  to  persuade  his  master  to  accompany 
him.  His  lordship  had  his  foot  upon  the  threshhold,  when 
the  dog  caught  the  skirt  of  his  coat  between  his  teeth,  and 
tugged  it  with  great  violence,  yet  with  every  token  of  love 
and  terror  ;  for  he  now  appeared  to  partake  of  the  general 
confusion  of  the  family.  The  poor  animal  again  renewed 
his  fondling,  rubbed  his  face  suftly  along  his  master's  side, 
sought  the  patting  hand,  raised  his  soliciting  feet,  and  dur- 
ing these  endearing  ways  he  whined  and  trembled  to  a 
degree,  that  could  not  escape  the  attention  both  of  the  mas- 
ter and  the  servant. 

"  I  should  suspect,"  said  his  lordship,  "  were  I  apt  to  credit 
omens,  from  a  connexion  betwixt  the  deportment  of  the 
people  of  this  inn,  and  the  unaccountable  solicitude  of  the 
dog,  that  there  is  something  wrong  about  this  house."  "  I 
have  long  been  of  the  same  opinion,"  observed  the  servant, 


68  THE    MUSEUM. 

"  and  wish,  your  honor,  we  had  been  wet  to  the  skin  in 
proceeding,  rather  than  to  have  stopped  here." 

"  It  is  too  late  to  talk  of  wishes,"  rejoined  his  lordship, 
"  neither  can  we  set  off  now,  were  I  disposed  ;  for  the  hur- 
ricane is  more  furious  than  ever.  Let  us,  therefore,  make 
the  best  of  it.  In  what  part  of  the  house  do  you  sleep  '.*" — 
"  Close  at  the  head  of  your  lordship's  bed,"  answered  the 
domestic,  "  in  a  little  closet,  slipside  of  a  room  by  the  stairs 
— there,  my  lord,"  added  the  servant,  pointing  to  a  small 
door  on  the  right. 

"  Then  go  to  bed — we  are  not  wholly  without  means 
of  defence,  you  know  ;  and  which  ever  of  us  shall  be  first 
alarmed,  may  apprise  the  other.  At  the  same  time,  all  this 
may  be  nothing  more  than  the  work  of  our  own  fancies." 

The  anxiety  of  the  dog,  during  this  conversation,  cannot 
be  expressed.  On  the  servant's  leaving  the  room,  the  dog 
ran  hastily  to  the  door,  as  if  in  hopes  his  lordship  would 
follow ;  and  looked  as  if  to  entice  him  so  to  do.  Upon  his 
lordship's  advancing  a  few  steps,  the  vigilant  creature  leap- 
ed with  every  sign  of  satisfaction  ;  but  when  he  found  those 
steps  were  directed  only  to  close  the  door,  his  dejection  was 
depicted  in  a  manner  no  less  lively  than  had  been  his  joy. 
It  was  scarcely  possible  not  to  be  impressed  by  these  un- 
accountable circumstances,  yet  his  lordship  was  ashamed 
of  yielding  to  them,  and  finding  all  quiet  both  above  and 
below,  except  the  noise  of  the  wind  and  rain ;  and  finding 
that  no  caresses  could  draw  the  dog  from  the  part  of  the  room 
he  had  chosen,  his  lordship  made  a  bed  for  the  poor  fellow 
with  one  of  the  mats,  and  then  sought  repose  himself. 
Neither  the  dog,  however,  nor  the  master,  could  rest.  The 
former  rose  often,  and  paced  the  room ;  sometimes  he  came 
close  to  the  bed  curtains  and  whined  piteously,  although 
the  hand  of  reconciliation  was  put  forth  to  sooth  him.  In 
the  course  of  an  hour  after  this,  his  lordship,  wearied  with 
conjectures,  fell  asleep ;  but  he  was  soon  aroused  by  his 
dog,  whom  he  heard  scratching  violently  at  the  closet  door, 
an  action  which  was  accompanied  by  the  gnashing  of  the 
dog's  teeth,  intermixed  with  the  most  furious  growlings. 
His  lordship,  who  had  laid  himself  down  in  his  clothes,  and 
literally  resting  on  his  arms — his  brace  of  pistols  being 
under  his  pillow — now  sprung  from  the  bed.  The  rain 


THEMUSEUM.  59 

had  ceased,  and  the  wind  abated,  from  which  circumstances 
he  hoped  to  hear  better  what  was  passing.  But  nothing 
for  an  instant  appeased  the  rage  of  the  dog,  who,  finding 
his  paws  unable  to  force  a  passage  into  the  closet,  put  his 
teeth  to  a  small  aperture  at  the  bottom,  and  attempted  to 
gnaw  away  the  obstruction.  There  could  be  no  longer  a 
doubt  that  the  cause  of  the  mischief,  or  danger,  whatsoever 
it  might  be,  lay  in  that  closet.  Yet  there  appeared  some 
risk  in  opening  it;  more  particularly  when,  on  trying  to 
force  the  lock,  it  was  found  secured  by  some  fastening  on 
the  inside.  A  knocking  was  now  heard  at  the  chamber 
door,  through  the  key-hole  of  which  a  voice  exclaimed — 
"  For  God's  sake,  my  lord,  let  me  in."  His  lordship,  know- 
ing it  to  proceed  from  his  servant,  advanced  armed,  and  ad- 
mitted him.  "  All  seems  quiet,  my  lord,  below  stairs  and 
above,"  said  the  man,  "  for  I  have  never  closed  my  eyes 
For  heaven's  sake  !  what  can  be  the  matter  with  the  dog, 
to  occasion  such  a  dismal  barking  ?"  "  That  I  am  resolved 
to  know,"  answered  his  lordship,  furiously  pushing  the 
closet  door.  No  sooner  was  it  burst  open,  than  the  dog, 
with  inconceivable  rapidity,  rushed  in,  and  was  followed 
both  by  the  master  and  man.  The  candle  had  gone  out  in 
the  bustle,  and  the  extreme  darkness  of  the  night  pre- 
vented them  from  seeing  any  object  whatever.  But  a  hust- 
ling sort  of  a  noise  was  heard  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
closet.  His  lordship  then  fired  one  of  his  pistols  at  random, 
by  way  of  alarm.  A  piercing  cry,  ending  in  a  loud  groan, 
immediately  came  from  the  dog.  "  Great  God  !"  exclaim- 
ed his  lordship,  u  I  have  surely  destroyed  my  defender." 
He  ran  out  for  a  light,  and  snatched  a  candle  from  the  inn- 
holder,  who  came  in  apparent  consternation,  to  inquire  into 
the  alarm  of  the  family.  Others  of  the  house  now  entered 
the  room;  but,  without  paying  attention  to  their  questions,  his 
lordship  ran  towards  the  closet  to  look  for  his  dog.  "  The 
door  is  open  ! — the  door  is  open  !"  ejaculated  the  publican  ; 
— "  then  all  is  over  !"  As  his  lordship  was  re-entering  the 
closet,  he  was  met  by  his  servant,  who,  with  almost 
every  mark  of  speechless  consternation  in  his  voice  and 
countenance,  exclaimed,  "  O,  rny  lord  ! — I  have  seen  such 
shocking  sights ;"  and,  without  being  able  to  finish  his  sen- 
tence, he  sunk  on  the  floor.  Before  his  master  could  ex- 


60  THE    MUSEUM. 

plore  the  cause  of  this,  or  succeed  in  raising  up  his  fallen 
domestic,  the  poor  dog  came  limping  from  the  closet,  while 
a  blood  track  marked  his  path.  He  gained,  with  great 
difficulty  the  place  where  his  lordship  stood  aghast  and  fell 
at  his  master's  feet.  Every  demonstration  of  grief  ens-ued  : 
but  the  dog  unmindful  of  his  wounds,  kept  his  eyes  still 
intent  upon  the  closet  door;  and  denoted,  that  the  whole 
of  the  mystery  was  not  yet  developed. 

Seizing  the  other  pistol  from  the  servant,  who  had  fallen 
into  a  swoon,  his  lordship  now  re-entered  the  closet.  The 
wounded  dog  crawled  after  him  ;  when,  on  examining 
every  part,  he  perceived,  in  one  corner,  an  opening  into  the 
inn  yard,  by  a  kind  of  trap  door,  to  which  some  broken  steps 
descended.  The  dog  seated  himself  on  the  steps ;  but 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  common  sack.  Nor 
was  any  thing  visible  upon  the  floor,  except  some  drops  of 
blood,  part  of  which  were  evidently  those  which  had  issued 
from  the  wound  of  (lie  dog  himself,  and  part  must  have 
been  of  long  standing,  as  they  were  dried  into  the  boards. 
His  lordship  went  back  into  the  bed  chamber,  but  the  dog 
remained  in  the  closet.  On  his  return  the  dog  met  him 
breathing  hard,  as  if  from  violent  exercise,  and  he  followed 
his  master  into  the  chamber. 

The  state  of  the  man  servant,  upon  whom  fear  had 
operated  so  as  to  continue  him  in  a  succession  of  swoons, 
now  claimed  his  lordship's  attentions,  and  while  those  were 
administered,  the  dog  again  left  the  chamber.  A  short 
time  after  this,  he  was  heard  to  bark  aloud,  then  cry, 
accompanied  by  a  noise,  as  if  something  heavy  was  drawn 
along  the  floor.  On  going  once  more  into  the  closet,  his 
lordship  found  the  dog  trying  to  bring  forward  the  sack 
which  had  been  seen  lying  on  the  steps  near  the  trap 
door.  The  animal  renewed  his  exertions  at  the  sight  of 
his  master ;  but,  again  exhausted  both  by  labor  and  loss 
of  blood,  he  rested  his  head  and  his  feet  on  the  mouth  of 
the  sack. 

Excited  by  this  new  mystery,  his  lordship  now  assisted 
the  poor  dog  in  his  labor,  and,  though  that  labor  was  not 
light,  curiosity,  and  the  apprehension  of  discovering  some 
thing  extraordinary,  on  the  part  of  his  lordship,  and  un- 
ubating  perseverance  on  that  of  the  dog,  to  accomplish  his 


THE     MUSEUM.  61 

purpose,  gave  them  strength  to  bring  at  length  the  sack 
from  the  closet  to  the  chamber.  The  servant  was  some- 
what restored  to  himself,  as  the  sack  was  dragged  into  the 
room,  but  every  person,  who  in  the  beginning  of  the  alarm 
had  rushed  into  the  apartment,  had  now  disappeared. 

The  opening  of  the  sack  surpassed  all  that  human  lan- 
guage can  convey  of  human  horror. 

As  his  lordship  loosened  the  cord  which  fastened  the 
sack's  mouth,  the  dog  fixed  his  eyes  on  it,  stood  over  it 
with  wild  and  trembling  eagerness,  as  if  ready  to  seize  and 
devour  the  contents. 

The  contents  appeared,  and  the  extreme  of  horror  was 
displayed.  A  human  body,  as  if  murdered  in  bed,  being 
covered  only  with  a  bloody  shirt,  and  that  clotted,  and  still 
damp  as  if  recently  shed  ;  the  head  severed  from  the 
shoulders,  and  the  other  members  mangled  and  separated, 
so  as  to  make  the  trunk  and  extremities  lie  in  the  sack, 
was  now  exposed  to  view. 

The  dog  srnelled  the  blood,  and  after  surveying  the 
corpse,  looked  piteously  at  his  master,  and  licked  his  hand, 
as  if  grateful  the  mysterious  murder  was  discovered. 

It  was  proved,  that  a  traveller  had  really  been  murdered 
two  nights  before  his  lordship's  arrival  at  that  haunt  of 
infamy ;  and  that  the  offence  was  committed  in  the  very 
chamber,  and  probably  in  the  very  bed,  wherein  his  lord- 
ship had  slept ;  and  which,  but  for  the  warnings  of  his 
faithful  friend,  might  have  been  fatal  to  himself. 

The  maid  servant  was  an  accomplice  in  the  guilt :  and 
the  ruffian  travellers,  who  were  confederating  with  the  inn- 
holder  and  his  wife,  were  the  murderers  of  the  bloody 
remains  that  had  just  been  emptied  from  the  sack,  whose 
intent  it  was  to  have  buried  them  that  night  in  a  pit,  which 
their  guilty  hands  had  dug  in  an  adjacent  field  belonging 
to  the  inn-holder ;  whose  intention  it  likewise  was  to  have 
murdered  the  nobleman,  which  was  providentially  prevented 
by  the  wonderful  sagacity  of  the  dog.  The  inn-keeper 
and  his  wife  were  taken  up,  and  punished  according 
to  their  deserts ;  and  the  nobleman  was  so  affected  at  his 
miraculous  escape,  that  he  bound  up  the  wounds  of  the 
faithful  dog  with  the  greatest  care,  and  the  balms  of  love 
and  friendship  were  infused.  The  master's  hour  of  con- 

as 


02  THE    MUSEUM. 

trition  was  now  come ;  he  was  sorry  he  had  ever  neglected 
so  invaluable  a  friend ;  and,  as  the  only  peace-offering  in 
his  power,  departed  with  this  faithful  companion  from  the 
house  of  blood,  to  that  mansion  he  had  formerly  left  in 
disgrace ;  where  the  caresses  of  a  grateful  family,  and  an 
uninterrupted  state  of  tranquillity,  meliorated  with  every 
indulgence  they  could  bestow,  was  regularly  continued  as 
long  as  he  lived. 


FATAL    EXPEDITION    OF    PRINCE    BECKEWITZ. 

IN  1717.  the  Czar  being  informed  that  great  quantities 
of  gold  sand  came  down  the  river  Daria,  on  the  east  side  of 
the  Caspian  Sea,  toward  Usbeck  Tartary,  sent  Prince 
Alexander  Beckewitz,  at  the  head  of  3,000  men,  to  land  at 
the  mouth  of  that  river,  and  build  a  fort  there :  and  then  to 
proceed  further  up  the  country,  to  discover  the  mines  from 
which  this  gold  sand  came.  The  prince  accordingly  built 
a  fort  without  the  smallest  opposition,  although  the  Usbeck 
Tartars  were  upon  the  very  spot ;  but,  instead  of  hindering, 
they  gave  him  every  assistance  in  their  power,  providing 
the  troops  with  all  kinds  of  provisions,  and  maintaining  a 
most  friendly  intercourse  with  each  other.  The  fort  being 
finished,  the  prince  wanted  to  proceed  up  the  river  to  dis- 
cover the  mines,  which  the  Tartars  observing,  told  him,  if 
he  proposed  to  follow  the  course  of  the  river,  he  would  find 
it  insurmountable,  by  its  many  turnings  and  windings  ; 
and  if  he  wanted  only  to  come  to  the  mines,  there  was  a 
much  nearer  way  by  land,  which  they  could  march  in 
three  days,  and  they  were  ready  to  conduct  them.  The 
prince,  trusting  to  their  seeming  friendship,  and  having  no 
"eason  to  fear  their  inconsiderable  number,  left  a  captain 
with  200  men  to  garrison  the  fort  and  secure  the  ships,  set 
out  through  a  desert  with  the  Tartarian  guides,  and  having 
.  arched  seven  days  instead  of  three,  they  were  in  the 
inmost  distress  for  water ;  and  at  length,  after  abundance 
ot  ratigue,  they  arrived  at  the  mines,  but  found  there,  before 
them,  the  Cham  of  Usbeck,  with  50,000  of  his  Tartars, 
who  now  with  every  appearance  of  friendship,  offered  Prince 


THE    MUSEUM.  63 

Beckewitz  all  the  assistance  in  his  power ;  assuring  him, 
since  he  understood  that  the  Prince  was  to  erect  a  fort 
there,  he  would  give  orders  to  his  people  to  provide  materials 
for  the  building ;  and  offered  to  canton  the  army  in  the 
kibbits  or  tents  with  his  own  men,  as  they  had  suffered  so 
much  on  their  inarch  through  the  desert  for  want  of  water, 
and  might  now  be  distressed  for  provisions,  with  which  he 
also  offered  to  supply  them  until  they  could  be  otherwise 
provided  :  the  Chain  all  the  while  entertaining  the  prince, 
and  all  his  officers,  with  so  much  seeming  friendly  famili- 
arity, that  they  thought  themselves  extremely  happy. 
When  the  prince  proposed  cantoning  the  men  among 
the  Tartars,  all  his  officers  to  a  man  protested  against  it, 
alleging  the  Tartars  ought  not  to  be  trusted :  for  so  long 
as  they  kept  themselves  together  in  a  body,  they  had  nothing 
to  fear  from  the  Tartars,  notwithstanding  their  number ; 
hut  as  soon  as  they  separated  themselves,  they  would  run 
the  risk  of  being  every  one  massacred. 

The  Tartar  Cham  observing  that  they  were  not  inclined 
to  trust  to  him,  said  to  the  prince  and  his  officers,  that  they 
had  no  reason  to  mistrust  his  kindness,  as  it  entirely  pro- 
ceeded from  his  regard  to  the  Czar,  their  master,  whom  he 
knew  to  be  engaged  in  great  wars  in  Europe,  which  could 
not  be  carried  on  without  gold ;  and  for  that  reason  he 
freely  gave  them  liberty  to  take  as  much  of  it  as  they 
pleased ;  for  his  own  part,  he  neither  valued  gold  nor  silver, 
as  it  was  of  no  use  in  their  country,  for  they  lived  without 
that,  or  even  bread,  consequently  had  no  use  for  either  ; 
their  whole  riches  consisting  in  herds  of  cattle,  which,  with 
their  tents,  they  could  remove  at  pleasure ;  and  conse- 
quently, could  not  fear  having  either  castles,  towns  or  vil- 
lages, rifled  or  taken  from  them ;  for  they  lived  here  one 
day,  and  elsewhere  the  next.  As  to  his  offer  to  quarter 
their  men  amongst  his  people,  it  was  made  with  a  kind 
intention,  and  to  provide  for  them  till  the  arrival  of  their 
own  stores  from  their  ships,  which  could  not  be  long,  as  he 
had  sent  a  party  of  his  men  with  camels  to  hasten  them 
forward. 

"  The  general,  at  length,  by  these  insinuations,  against 
the  advice  of  all  his  officers,  was  prevailed  upon  to  quarter 
his  army  among  the  Tartars  ;  whilst  this  was  doing,  the 


64  THE    MUSEUM. 

Cham  was  entertaining  the  prince,  and  his  principal 
officers,  in  his  own  tent,  till  late  in  the  night,  when,  in  the 
height  of  their  merriment,  a  Tartar  entered  and  told  the 
Cham  his  orders  were  executed ;  on  which  the  Cham  put 
on  a  stern  countenance,  ordered  all  the  officers  to  be  dis- 
armed and  bound,  which  was  instantly  done ;  he  then  told 
the  prince  that  all  his  troops  were  massacred,  and  that 
since  he  had  presumed  to  enter  into  his  territories,  and 
taken  possession  without  his  leave,  he  and  his  officers  were 
to  be  put  to  death  ;  the  officers  were  at  that  instant  des- 
patched before  his  face,  and  Prince  Beckewitz  was  ordered 
to  kneel  down  on  a  piece  of  red  cloth,  spread  on  the  ground 
for  that  purpose,  to  meet  his  fate ;  but  the  prince  began  to 
upbraid  the  Cham  with  his  treachery,  and  assured  him, 
that  the  Czar  would  resent  it  in  the  most  ample  manner  ; 
he  was  immediately  cut  on  the  legs  with  their  scimitars  till 
he  fell,  and  then  they  inhumanly  cut  him  in  pieces.  At 
the  same  time,  the  party  that  had  been  sent  to  the  fort  for 
provisions,  surprised  and  massacred  the  whole  garrison  that 
was  left  there,  and  then  destioyed  the  fort  and  burnt  the 
ships,  leaving  not  the  least  appearance  that  any  thing  of 
that  kind  had  ever  been  there. 

This  disaster  occasioned  various  conjectures  and  specula- 
tions all  over  Russia,  as  not  the  least  accounts  had  been  re- 
ceived either  of  the  men  or  ships,  till  at  last  it  was  conclu- 
ded they  must  have  perished  in  the  Caspian  Sea.  The 
whole  of  this  affair  was  discovered  to  the  Czar  by  an  officer, 
a  German  by  birth,  who  had  been  taken  prisoner  at  the  bat- 
tle of  Pultowa,  in  the  Swedish  service,  and  went  on  this  ex- 
pedition as  a  captain  and  aid-de-camp  to  the  general,  and 
was  an  eye-witness  to  the  whole  transaction,  from  first  to 
last ;  he  was  preserved  in  the  general  massacre  by  his  host, 
in  order  to  sell  him ;  but  as  he  had  not  been  used  to  hard 
work,  he  was  often  sold  from  one  master  to  another,  till  at 
last  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  an  Armenian  merchant,  who 
had  a  correspondence  with  other  Armenians  at  Astrachan : 
he  discovered  himself  to  this  merchant,  who,  on  having  se- 
curity for  the  money  he  cost,  gave  him  his  liberty  ;  by  which 
means  he  got  this  information,  otherwise  it  might  have  re- 
mained a  secret  for  ever. 


THE    MUSEUM.  65 


EXTRAORDINARY  TRIAL  FOR  ROBBERY. 

A  GENTLEMAN,  followed  by  a  servant  in  livery,  rode  up  to 
an  inn  in  the  west  of  England,  one  evening  a  little  before 
duslc.  He  told  the  landlord  that  he  should  be  detained  by 
business  in  that  part  of  the  country  for  a  few  days,  and  wish- 
ed to  know  if  there  were  any  amusements  going  on  in  the 
town  to  fill  up  the  intervals  of  the  time.  The  landlord 
replied,  "  that  it  was  their  race  and  assize  week,  and  that 
therefore  he  would  be  at  no  loss  to  pass  away  the  time." 
On  the  gentleman's  making  answer,  "  that  this  was  lucky, 
for,  that  he  was  fond  of  seeing  trials  ;"  the  other  said,  "  that 
a  very  interesting  trial,  for  a  robbery  would  come  on  the  next 
day,  on  which  people's  opinions  were  much  divided,  the  evi- 
dence being  very  strong  against  the  prisoner:  but  he  him- 
self persisting  resolutely  in  declaring,  that  he  was  in  a 
distant  part  of  the  kingdom  at  the  time  the  robbery  was 
committed."  His  guest  manifested  considerable  curiosity  to 
hear  the  trial ;  but,  as  the  court  would  probably  be  crowded, 
expressed  some  doubt  of  getting  a  place.  The  landlord  told 
him,  "  that  there  could  be  no  difficulty  in  a  gentleman  of  his 
appearance  getting  a  place :  but  that,  to  prevent  any  accident, 
he  would  himself  go  with  him,  and  speak  to  one  of  the 
beadles.  Accordingly  they  went  into  court  the  next  morning, 
and  the  gentleman  was  shown  a  seat  on  the  bench.  Pre- 
sently after,  the  trial  began.  While  the  evidence  was  being 
given  against  him,  the  prisoner  had  remained  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground,  seemingly  very  much  depressed  ;  till 
being  called  on  for  his  defence,  he  looked  up,  and,  seeing 
the  stranger,  he  suddenly  fainted  away.  This  excited  some 
surprise,  and  it  seemed  at  first  like  a  trick  to  gain  time.  As 
soon  as  he  came  to  himself,  on  being  asked  by  the  Judge  the 
cause  of  his  behavior,  he  said,  "  Oh  !  my  lord,  I  see  a  person 
that  can  save  my  life ;  that  gentleman  (pointing  to  the  stran- 
ger) can  prove  I  am  innocent,  might  I  only  have  leave  to  put 
a  few  questions  to  him."  The  eyes  of  the  whole  court  were 
now  turned  on  the  gentleman  ;  who  said,  "  he  felt  himself 
in  a  very  awkward  situation  to  be  so  called  upon,  as  he  did 
not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  the  man  before,  but  that  he 
would  answer  any  question  that  was  asked  him.3'  "  Well 

28* 


66  THE    MUSEUM. 

then,"  said  the  man,  "  don't  you  remember  landing  at  Dover 
at  such  a  time  ?"  To  this  the  gentleman  answered,  "  that 
he  had  landed  at  Dover,  not  long  before,  but  that  he  could 
not  tell  whether  it  was  on  the  day  lie  mentioned  or  not." 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "  but  don't  you  recollect  that  a  person  in  a 
bluejacket  and  trowsers,  carried  your  trunk  to  the  inn?" 
To  this  he  answered,  "  that  of  course  some  person  had  car- 
ried his  trunk  for  him  ;  but  that  he  did  not  know  what  dress 
he  wore."  "  But,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  don't  you  remember 
that  the  person  who  went  with  you  from  the  boat,  told  you 
a  story  of  his  being  in  the  service,  that  he  thought  himself 
an  ill-used  man,  and  that  he  showed  you  a  scar  he  had  on 
one  side  of  his  forehead?"  During  this  last  question,  the 
countenance  of  the  stranger  underwent  a  considerable 
change  ;  he  said,  "he  certainly  did  recollect  such  a  circum- 
stance ;"  and,  on  the  man's  putting  his  hair  aside,  and 
showing  the  scar,  he  became  quite  sure  that  he  was  the 
same  person.  A  buzz  of  satisfaction  now  ran  through  the 
court,  for  the  day  on  which,  according  to  the  prisoner's  ac- 
count, this  gentleman  had  met  with  him  at  Dover,  was  the 
same  on  which  he  was  charged  with  the  robbery  in  a  remote 
county.  The  stranger,  however,  could  not  be  certain  of  the 
time,  but  said,  that  he  sometimes  made  memorandums  of  dates 
in  his  pocket  book,  and  might  possibly  have  done  so  on  this 
occasion.  On  opening  his  pocket  book,  he  found  a  memoran- 
dum of  the  time  he  landed  from  Calais,  which  corresponded 
with  the  prisoner's  assertion.  This  being  the  only  circum- 
stance necessary  to  prove  the  alibi,  the  prisoner  was  immedi- 
ately acquitted,  amidst  the  applause  and  congratulations  of 
the  whole  court.  Within  less  than  a  month  after  this,  the 
gentleman  who  recognized  the  prisoner,  the  servant  in  livery, 
who  followed  him,  and  the  prisoner  who  had  been  acquitted, 
were  all  three  brought  back  together  to  the  same  jail,  for 
robbing  the  mail.  ' 


OUTRAGED  NATURE  AVENGED. 

IN  Queen  Anne's  reign,  a  soldier  belonging  to  a  march- 
ing regiment,  that  was  quartered  in  the  city  of  W was 


THE    MUSEUM.  67 

taken  up  for  desertion,  and  being  tried  by  a  court  martial, 
was  sentenced  to  be  shot.  The  colonel  and  lieutenant-colonel 
being  both  in  London,  the  command  of  the  regiment  had 
devolved  in  course  on  the  major,  who  was  accounted  a  very 
cruel  and  obdurate  man.  The  day  of  execution  being 
come,  the  regiment,  as  usual  upon  these  occasions,  was 
drawn  up  to  witness  it ;  but  when  every  one  present  who 
knew  the  custom  at  these  executions,  expected  to  see  the 
corporals  cast  lots  for  the  ungracious  office,  they  were  sur- 
prised to  find  it  fixed  by  the  major  on  the  prisoner's  own 
brother,  who  was  a  soldier  in  the  same  regiment,  and  was 
at  the  moment  taking  his  last  leave  of  the  unfortunate 
culprit. 

On  this  inhuman  order  being  announced  to  the  brothers, 
they  both  fell  down  upon  their  knees  ;  the  one  supplicated 
in  the  most  affecting  terms  that  he  might  be  spared  the 
horror  of  shedding  a  brother's  blood,  and  the  other  brother, 
that  he  might  receive  his  doom  from  any  other  hand  than 
his.  But  all  their  tears  and  supplications  were  in  vain ;  the 
major  was  not  to  be  moved.  He  swore  that  the  brother, 
and  the  brother  only,  should  be  the  man,  that  the  example 
might  be  the  stronger,  and  the  execution  the  more  horrible. 
Several  of  the  officers  attempted  to  remonstrate  with  him, 
bu.t  to  no  purpose.  The  brother  prepared  to  obey.  The 
prisoner  having  gone  through  the  usual  service  with  the 
minister,  kneeled  down  at  the  place  appointed  to  receive  the 
fatal  shot.  The  major  stood  by,  saw  the  afflicted  brother 
load  his  instrument  of  death,  and  this  being  clone  ordered 
him  to  observe  the  third  signal  with  his  cane,  and  at  the  in- 
stant to  do  his  office  and  despatch  the  prisoner.  But,  be- 
hold, the  justice  of  Providence !  When  the  major  was 
dealing  his  fatal  signals  for  the  prisoner's  death,  at  the 
motion  of  his  cane,  the  soldier,  inspired  by  some  superior 
power,  suddenly  turned  about  his  piece,  and  shot  the  tyrant 
through  the  heart.  Then  throwing  down  his  piece,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  He  that  can  show  no  mercy,  no  mercy  let  him 
receive.  Now  I  submit ;  I  had  rather  die  this  hour  for  his 
death,  than  live  a  hundred  years,  and  give  rny  brother  his." 
At  the  unexpected  event  no  body  seemed  to  be  sorry  ;  and 
some  of  the  chief  citizens,  who  came  to  see  the  execution, 
and  were  witnesses  of  all  that  passed,  prevailed  with  the 


68  THEMTTSETTM. 

next  commanding  officer  to  carry  both  the  brothers  back  to 
prison,  and  not  to  execute  the  first  prisoner  until  further 
orders,  promising  to  indemnify  him  for  the  consequences,  as 
far  as  their  whole  interest  could  possibly  go  with  the  queen. 
This  request  being  complied  with,  the  city  corporation,  that 
very  night,  drew  up  a  most  pathetic  and  moving  address  to 
their  sovereign,  humbly  setting  forth  the  cruelty  of  the  de- 
ceased, and  praying  her  majesty's  clemency  towards  the 
prisoners.  The  queen,  upon  the  perusal  of  this  petition, 
which  was  presented  to  her  majesty  by  one  of  the  city  re- 
presentatives, was  pleased  to  promise  that  she  would  inquire 
into  the  matter.  On  doing  so,  she  found  the  truth  of  the 
petition  confirmed,  and  was  graciously  pleased  to  pardon 
both  the  offending  brothers,  and  discharge  them  from  her 
service.  "  For  which  good  mercy  in  the  queen,"  says  a 
chronicle  of  that  period,  "  she  received  a  very  grateful  and 
most  dutiful  address  of  thanks  from  the  loyal  city." 


WONDERFUL    SAGACITY    OP    A    GRAZIER'S    DOG. 

THE  Cur  Dog  is  a  trusty  and  useful  servant  to  the  far 
mer  or  grazier ;  and,  although  it  is  not  taken  notice  of  .by 
naturalists  as  a  distinct  race,  yet  it  is  now  so  generally  used, 
that  we  consider  it  as  a  permanent  kind.  They  are  prin- 
cipally employed  in  driving  cattle,  in  which  they  are  ex- 
tremely useful.  They  are  mostly  of  a  black  and  white 
color ;  their  ears  are  half-pricked,  and  many  of  them  are 
whelped  with  short  tails,  which  seem  as  if  they  had  been 
cut.  Their  sagacity  is  uncommonly  great :  they  know 
their  master's  fields,  and  are  singularly  attentive  to  the  cat- 
tle that  are  in  them.  A  good  dog  watches,  goes  his  rounds, 
and  if  any  strange  cattle  happen  to  appear  amongst  the 
herd,  although  unbidden,  he  flies  at  them,  and  with  keen 
bites  obliges  them  to  depart. 

The  following  instance  of  sagacity  and  attachment  in 
this  valuable  quadruped,  was  the  means  of  preserving  the 
life  of  its  master,  and  deserves  to  be  recorded  in  the  pages 
of  this  work.  Donald  Archer,  a  grazier,  near  Paisley  in 
Scotland,  had  long  kept  a  fine  dog  for  the  purpose  of  attend 


THE    MUSEUM.  69 

ing  his  cattle  on  the  mountains,  a  service  which  he  per- 
formed with  the  greatest  vigilance.  The  grazier  having  a 
young  puppy  given  him  by  a  friend,  brought  it  home  to  his 
house,  and  was  remarkably  fond  of  it ;  but  whenever  the 
puppy  was  caressed,  the  old  cur  dog  would  snarl  and  ap- 
dear  greatly  dissatisfied ;  and  when  at  times  it  came  to  eat 
with  old  Brutus,  a  dislike  was  evident,  which  at  last  made 
him  leave  the  house,  and  notwithstanding  every  search  was 
made  after  him  by  his  master,  he  was  never  able  to  disco- 
ver his  abode. 

About  four  years  after  the  dog  had  eloped,  the  grazier 
had  been  driving  a  herd  of  cattle  to  a  neighboring  fair, 
where  he  disposed  of  them,  received  money,  and  was  bent 
on  returning  home.  He  had  proceeded  near  ten  miles  on 
his  journey,  when  he  was  overtaken  by  a  tempest  of  wind 
and  rain,  that  raged  with  such  violence,  as  to  cause  him  to 
look  for  a  place  of  shelter  ;  but  not  being  able  to  perceive 
any  house  at  hand,  he  struck  out  of  the  main  road,  and  ran 
towards  a  wood  that  appeared  at  some  distance,  where  he 
escaped  the  storm  by  crouching  under  the  trees.  It  was 
thus  he  insensibly  departed  from  the  proper  way  he  had  to 
go,  until  he  had  actually  lost  himself,  and  knew  not  where 
he  was.  He  travelled,  however,  according  to  the  best  of 
his  judgment,  though  not  without  the  fear  of  meeting  dan- 
ger from  the  attack  of  robbers,  whose  depredations  had 
lately  been  the  terror  of  the  neighboring  country.  A  smoke 
that  came  from  some  bushes,  convinced  him  that  he  wag 
near  a  house,  to  which  he  thought  it  prudent  to  go,  in  order 
that  he  might  learn  where  he  was,  and  procure  refreshment; 
accordingly  he  crossed  a  path  and  came  to  the  door,  knock- 
ed, and  demanded  admission  ;  the  landlord,  a  surly  looking 
fellow,  gave  him  an  invitation  to  enter  and  be  seated,  in  a 
room  that  wore  but  an  indifferent  aspect.  Our  traveller 
was  hardly  seated  before  the  fire,  when  he  was  sahuecl  with 
equal  surprise  and  kindness,  by  his  former  dog,  old  Brutus, 
who  came  wagging  his  tail,  and  demonstrating  all  the  glad- 
ness he  could  express.  Archer  immediately  knew  the  ani- 
mal, and  was  astonished  at  thus  unexpectedly  finding  him 
so  many  miles  from  home;  he  did  not,  however,  think 
proper  to  inquire  of  his  host,  at  that  time,  how  he  came  into 
his  possession,  as  the  appearance  of  every  thing  about  him 


70  THE    MUSEUM. 

rendered  his  situation  unpleasant.  By  this  time  it  was 
dark,  the  weather  still  continued  rainy,  and  no  opportunity 
presented  itself  to  the  unfortunate  grazier,  by  which  he 
might  pursue  his  journey ;  he  remembered,  however,  to 
learn  of  the  landlord  where  he  was,  who  informed  him  that 
he  was  fourteen  miles  from  Paisley,  and  that  if  he  ventured 
out  again  before  day-light,  it  was  almost  impossible  for  him 
to  find  his  way,  as  the  night  was  so  bad ;  but  if  he  chose 
to  remain  where  he  was,  every  thing  should  be  done  to  ren- 
der his  situation  comfortable.  The  grazier  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  act ;  he  did  not  like  the  house  he  was  in,  nor  the 
suspicious  looks  of  the  host  and  family — but  to  go  out  in 
the  wood  during  the  dark,  and  to  encounter  the  violence  of 
the  conflicting  elements,  might,  in  all  probability,  turn  out 
more  fatal  than  to  remain  where  he  was.  He  therefore 
resolved  to  wait  the  morning,  let  the  event  be  what  it 
would.  After  a  short  conversation  with  the  landlord,  he 
was  conducted  to  a  room  and  left  to  take  his  repose. 

It  is  necesary  to  observe,  that  from  the  first  moment  of 
Archer's  arrival,  the  dog  had  not  left  him  an  instant,  but  had 
even  followed  him  into  his  chamber,  where  he  placed  him- 
self under  the  bed,  unperceived  by  the  landlord.  The  door 
being  shut,  our  traveller  began  to  revolve  in  his  mind  the 
singular  appearance  of  his  old  companion,  his  lonely  situa- 
tion, and  the  manners  of  those  about  the  house ;  the  whole 
of  which  tended  to  confirm  his  suspicion  of  being  in  a  place 
of  danger  and  uncertainty.  His  reflections  were  soon  inter- 
rupted by  the  approach  of  his  dog,  who  came  fawning  from 
under  the  bed,  and,  by  several  extraordinary  gestures,  endea- 
vored to  direct  his  attention  to  a  particular  corner  of  the  room, 
where  he  proceeded,  and  saw  a  sight  that  called  up  every 
sentiment  of  horror :  the  floor  was  stained  with  blood,  which 
seemed  to  flow  from  a  closet,  that  was  secured  by  a  lock  which 
he  endeavored  to  explore,  but  could  not  open  it.  No  longer 
doubting  his  situation,  but  considering  himself  as  the  next 
victim  of  the  wretches  into  whose  society  he  had  fallen,  he 
resolved  to  sell  his  life,  as  dear  as  possible,  and  to  perish  in 
the  attempt,  or  effect  his  deliverance.  With  this  determina 
tion,  he  pulled  out  his  pistols,  and  softly  opened  the  door, 
honest  Brutus  at  his  heels,  with  his  shaggy  hair,  erect  like 
the  bristles  of  a  boar  bent  on  destruction.  He  reached  the 


BOBBERS,    AND    THE    GRAZIEu's    DOO. 


THE    MUSEUM.  71 

bottom  of  the  stairs  with  as  much  caution  as  possible,  and 
listened  with  attention  for  a  few  minutes,  when  he  heard  a 
conversation  that  was  held  by  several  persons  whom  he  had 
not  seen  when  he  first  came  into  the  house,  which  left  no 
room  to  doubt  of  their  intention.  The  villainous  landlord 
was  informing  them,  in  a  low  tone,  of  the  booty  they  would 
find  in  the  possession  of  his  guest,  and  the  moment  they 
were  to  murder  him  for  that  purpose.  Alarmed  as  Archer 
was,  he  immediately  concluded  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost, 
in  doing  his  best  endeavors  to  save  his  life :  he  therefore, 
without  hesitation,  burst  in  amongst  them,  and  fired  his 
pistol  at  the  landlord,  who  fell  from  his  seat :  the  rest  of  the 
gang  were  struck  with  astonishment  at  so  sudden  an  attack, 
while  the  grazier  made  for  the  door,  let  himself  out,  and  fled 
with  rapidity,  followed  by  the  dog.  A  musket  was  discharged 
after  him,  but  fortunately  did  not  do  him  any  injury.  With 
all  the  speed  that  danger  could  create,  he  ran  until  day  light 
enabled  him  to  perceive  a  house,  and  the  main  road  at  no 
great  distance.  To  this  house  he  immediately  went,  and 
related  all  that  he  had  seen  to  the  landlord,  who  immediately 
called  up  a  recruiting  party  that  were  quartered  upon  him, 
the  sergeant  of  which  accompanied  the  grazier  in  search  of 
the  house  in  the  wood.  The  services  and  sagacity  of  the 
faithful  dog  were  now  more  than  ever  rendered  conspicuous, 
for,  by  running  before  his  company,  and  his  singular  beha- 
vior, he  led  them  to  the  desired  spot.  On  entering  the 
house,  not  a  living  creature  was  to  be  seen,  all  had  deserted 
it:  they  therefore  began  to  explore  the  apartments,  and 
found  in  the  very  closest  (the  appearance  of  which  had  led 
the  grazier  to  attempt  his  escape)  the  murdered  remains  of  a 
traveller,  who  was  afterwards  advertised  throughout  all  the 
country.  On  coming  into  the  lower  room,  the  dog  began 
to  rake  the  earth  near  the  fire-place  with  his  feet,  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  raise  the  curiosity  of  all  present.  The  sergeant 
ordered  the  place  to  be  dug  up,  when  a  trap  door  was  dis- 
covered, which,  on  being  opened,  was  found  to  contain  the 
mangled  bodies  of  many  who  had  been  robbed  and  murder- 
ed, with  the  landlord  himself,  who  was  not  quite  dead,  though 
he  had  been  shot  through  the  neck  by  the  grazier.  The 
wretches,  in  their  quick  retreat,  had  thrown  him  in  amongst 
those  who  had  formerly  fell  victims  to  their  cruelty,  suppos- 


72  .  THEMTTSETTM. 

ing  him  past  recovery ;  he  was,  however,  cured  of  his  wounds, 
and  brought  to  justice,  tried,  found  guilty,  an-d  executed. 
Thus  was  the  life  of  a  man  preserved  by  the  sagacity  and 
attachment  of  a  va-luable  quadruped. 


ERRONEOUS    CONVICTION    UPON    STRONG    CIRCUMSTAN- 
TIAL   EVIDENCE. 

IN  the  year  1723,  a  young  man,  who  was  serving  his  ap- 
prenticeship in  London  to  a  master  sail-maker,  got  leave  to 
visit  his  mother,  to  spend  the  Christmas  holidays.  She  lived 
a  few  miles  beyond  Deal,  in  Kent.  He  walked  the  journey, 
and  on  his  arrival  at  Deal,  in  the  evening,  being  much  fa- 
tigued, and  also  troubled  with  a  bowel  complaint,  he  applied 
to  the  landlady  of  a  public-house  who  was  acquainted  with 
his  mother,  for  a  night's  lodging.  Her  house  was  full,  and 
every  bed  occupied ;  but  she  told  him,  that  if  he  would  sleep 
with  her  uncle,  who  had  lately  come  ashore,  and  was  a  boat- 
swain of  an  Indiaman,  he  should  be  welcome.  He  was  glad 
to  accept  the  offer ;  and  after  spending  the  evening  with  his 
new  comrade,  they  retired  to  rest.  In  the  middle  of  the 
night  he  was  attacked  with  his  complaint,  and  wakening  his 
bed-fellow,  he  asked  him  the  way  to  the  necessary.  The 
boastwain  told  him  to  go  through  the  kitchen  ;  but  as  he 
would  find  it  difficult  to  open  the  door  into  the  yard,  the 
latch  being  out  of  order,  he  desired  him  to  take  a  knife  out 
of  his  pocket  with  which  he  could  raise  the  latch.  The 
young  man  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  after  staying  half  an 
hour  in  the  yard,  he  returned  to  bed,  but  was  much  surprised 
to  find  his  companion  had  risen  and  gone.  Being  impatient 
to  visit  his  mother  and  friends,  he  also  arose  before  day,  and 
pursued  his  journey,  and  arrived  at  home  at  noon.  The 
landlady,  who  had  been  told  of  his  intention  to  depart  early, 
was  not  surprised  ;  but  not  seeing  her  uncle  in  the  morning, 
she  went  to  call  him.  She  was  dreadfully  shocked  to  find 
the  bed  stained  with  blood,  and  every  inquiry  after  her  un- 
cle was  in  vain.  The  alarm  now  became  general,  and  on 
further  examination,  marks  of  blood  were  traced  from  the 
bed-room  into  the  streetj  and  at  intervals  down  to  the  pier 


THE    MUSEUM.  73 

head.  Rumor  was  immediately  busy,  and  suspicion  fell  of 
course  on  the  young  man  who  slept  with  him,  that  he  had 
committed  the  murder,  and  thrown  the  body  into  the  sea. 
A  warrant  was  issued  and  he  was  taken  that  evening  at  his 
mother's  house.  On  his  being  examined  and  searched, 
marks  of  blood  were  discovered  on  his  shirt  and  trowsers, 
and  in  his  pocket  were  a  knife  and  a  remarkable  silver  coin, 
both  of  which  the  landlady  swore  positively  were  her  un- 
cle's property,  and  that  she  saw  them  in  his  possession  on 
the  evening  he  retired  to  rest  with  the  young  man.  On 
these  strong  circumstances  the  unfortunate  youth  was  found 
guilty.  He  related  all  the  above  circumstances  in  his  de- 
fence ;  but  as  he  could  not  account  for  the  marks  of  blood 
on  his  person,  unless  that  he  got  them  when  he  returned  to 
the  bed,  nor  could  he  account  for  the  silver  coin  being  in  his 
possession,  his  story  was  not  credited.  The  certainty  of  the 
boatswain's  disappearance; — the  blood  at  the  pier,  traced 
from  his  bed-room,  were  too  evident  signs  of  his  being  mur- 
dered ;  and  even  the  judge  was  so  convinced  of  his  guilt, 
that  he  ordered  the  execution  to  take  place  in  three  days. 
At  the  fatal  tree,  the  youth  declared  his  innocence,  and  per- 
sisted in  it  with  such  affecting  asseverations  that  many  pitied 
him,  though  none  doubted  the  justness  of  his  sentence. 

The  executioners  of  those  days  were  not  so  expert  at  their 
trade  as  modern  ones,  nor  were  drops  and  platforms  invent- 
ed. The  young  man  was  very  tall ;  his  feet  sometimes 
touched  the  ground,  and  some  of  his  friends  who  surround- 
ed the  gallows  contrived  to  give  the  body  some  support  as  it 
was  suspended.  After  being  cut  down,  those  friends  bore 
it  speedily  away  in  a  coffin,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours 
animation  was  restored,  and  the  innocent  saved.  When  he 
was  able  to  move,  his  friends  insisted  on  his  leaving  the 
country,  and  never  returning.  He  accordingly  travelled  by 
night  to  Portsmouth,  where  he  entered  on  board  a  man  of 
war  on  the  point  of  sailing  for  a  distant  part  of  the  world ; 
as  he  changed  his  name  and  disguised  his  person,  his  me- 
lancholy story  was  never  discovered.  After  a  few  years  of 
service,  during  which  his  exemplar}^  conduct  was  the  cause 
of  his  promotion  through  the  lower  grades,  he  was  at  last 
made  a  master's  mate,  and  his  ship  being  paid  off  in  the 
West  Indies,  he,  with  a  few  more  of  the  crew,  were  trans- 

29 


74  THE    MUSEUM. 

ferred  to  another  man  of  war,  which  had  just  arrived,  short 
of  hands,  from  a  different  station.  What  were  his  feelings 
of  astonishment,  and  then  of  delight  and  ecstacy,  when  al- 
most the  first  person  he  saw  on  board  of  his  new  ship  was 
the  identical  boatswain  for  whose  murder  he  had  been  tried, 
condemned,  and  executed,  five  years  before.  Nor  was  the 
surprise  of  the  old  boatswain  much  less  when  he  heard  the 
story.  An  explanation  of  all  the  mysterious  circumstances 
then  took  place.  It  appeared,  the  boastwain  had  been  bled 
for  a  pain  in  his  side  by  the  barber,  unknown  to  his  niece, 
on  the  day  of  the  young  man's  arrival  at  Deal ;  that  when 
the  young  man  awakened  him  and  retired  to  the  yard,  he 
found  the  bandage  had  come  off  his  arm  during  the  night, 
and  that  the  blood  was  flowing  afresh.  Being  alarmed,  he 
rose  to  go  to  the  barber,  who  lived  across  the  street ;  but  a 
press  gang  laid  hold  of  him  just  as  he  left  the  public  house. 
They  hurried  him  to  the  pier,  where  their  boat  was  waiting ; 
a  few  minutes  brought  them  on  board  a  frigate,  then  under 
way  for  the  East  Indies,  and  he  omitted  ever  writing  home  to 
account  for  his  sudden  disappearance.  Thus  were  the  chief 
circumstances  explained  by  the  friends  thus  strangely  met. 
The  silver  coin  being  found  in  the  possession  of  the  young 
man,  could  only  be  explained  by  conjecture — that  when  the 
boatswain  gave  him  the  knife  in  the  dark,  it  is  probable,  as 
the  coin  was  in  the  same  pocket,  it  stuck  between  the  blades 
of  the  knife,  and  in  this  manner  became  unconsciously  the 
strongest  proof  against  him. 

On  their  return  to  England,  this  wonderful  explanation 
was  told  to  the  judge  and  jury  who  tried  the  cause,  and  it 
is  probable  they  never  after  convicted  a  man  on  circum- 
stantial evidence.  It  also  made  a  great  noise  in  Kent  at 
that  time. 


STUKELEY,    THE    RECLUSE. 


MR.  STUKELEY,  a  gentleman  of  very  ancient  family,  and 
of  an  estate  of  a  thousand  pounds  a  year,  was  bred  to  the 
law.  During  this  time  he  appeared  to  have  more  of  that 
principle  in  his  soul  which  the  Newtonians  call  the  vis  in 


THE    MUSEUM.  75 

ertice  in  matter,  than  is  to  be  found  in  almost  any  man  ; 
when  put  into  motion  he  was  extremely  apt  to  continue  so, 
and  being  at  rest  he  hated  moving. 

On  leaving  London  he  retired  into  the  country,  filled 
with  the  project  of  perfecting  the  perpetual  motion;  this 
study  naturally  secluded  him,  and  his  habit  of  persisting  in 
one  way  kept  him  at  home  entirely.  During  thirty  years, 
he  never  went  abroad  but  once,  which  was,  when  he  was 
obliged  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  king  George  the 
first ;  this  was  the  only  time  he  changed  his  shirt,  or  gar- 
ments, or  shaved  himself,  for  the  whole  time  of  his  retire- 
ment. He  was  a  very  little  man,  and  at  once  the  most 
nasty  and  cleanliest  person  alive,  washing  his  hands  twenty 
times  a  day,  and  neglecting  every  other  part.  Hi?  family 
consisted  of  two  female  servants ;  one  kept  in  the  house,  the 
other  not.  He  never  had  his  bed  made.  After  he  had 
given  over  pursuing  the  perpetual  motion,  he  took  pleasure 
in  observing  the  works  and  policy  of  ants,  and  stocked  the 
town  so  plenteously  with  that  insect,  that  the  fruits  in  the 
garden  were  devoured  by  them. 

During  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  whenever  the  duke  of 
Marlborough  opened  the  trenches  against  a  city  in  Flan- 
ders, he  broke  ground  at  the  extremity  of  a  floor  in  his 
house,  made  with  lime  and  sand,  according  to  the  custom 
of  that  country,  and  advanced  in  his  approaches  regularly 
with  his  pick  axe,  gaining  work  after  work,  chalked  out 
the  ground  according  to  the  intelligence  in  the  gazette  ;  by 
which  he  took  the  town  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  at 
Bideford,  the  same  day  the  duke  was  master  of  it  in  Flan- 
ders ;  thus  every  city  cost  him  a  new  floor.*  He  never  sat 
on  a  chair,  and  when  he  chose  to  warm  himself,  he  made 
a  pit  before  the  fire,  into  which  he  leaped,  and  thus  sat  on 
the  floor.  He  suffered  no  one  to  see  him,  but  the  heir  of 
his  estate,  his  brother  and  sister ;  the  first  never  but  when 
he  sent  for  him,  and  that  very  rarely  ;  the  other  sometimes 
once  a  year,  and  sometimes  seldomer,  when  he  was  cheer- 
ful, talkative,  arid  a  lover  of  the  tittle  tattle  of  the  town. 
Notwithstanding  his  apparent  avarice,  he  was  by  no  means 

*  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Sterne  had  the  eccentricity  of  Mr. 
Stukeley  in  his  eye,  when  he  drew  the  charac  «r  of  my  uncle  Toby. 


76  THE    MUSEUM. 

a  lover  of  money ;  for,  during  his  seclusion,  he  never  re- 
ceived nor  asked  for  any  rent  from  many  of  his  tenants ; 
those  who  brought  him  money,  he  would  often  keep  at  an 
inn  more  than  a  week,  and  pay  all  their  expenses,  and 
dismiss  them  without  receiving  a  shilling.  He  lived  well 
in  his  house,  frequently  gave  to  the  poor,  always  ate  from 
large  joints  of  meat ;  never  saw  any  thing  twice  at  table  ; 
and  at  Christmas  divided  a  certain  sum  of  money  among 
the  necessitous  of  the  town.  He  seemed  to  be  afraid  of  two 
things  only ;  one,  being  killed  for  his  riches;  the  other,  being 
infected  with  disease ;  for  which  reasons  he  would  send  his 
maid  sometimes  to  borrow  a  half  crown  from  his  neighbors, 
to  hint  he  was  poor ;  and  always  received  the  money  which 
was  paid  him,  in  a  bason  of  water,  to  prevent  taking  infec- 
tion from  those  who  paid  him.  He  did  not  keep  his  money 
locked  up,  but  piled  it  on  the  shelves  before  the  plates  in 
in  his  kitchen.  In  his  chamber,  into  which  no  servant  had 
entered  during  the  time  of  his  tarrying  at  home,  he  had 
two  thousand  guineas  on  the  top  of  a  low  chest  of  drawers, 
covered  with  dust,  and  five  hundred  on  the  floor,  where  it 
lay  five  and  twenty  years ;  this  last  sum  a  child  had  thrown 
down,  which  he  was  fond  of  playing  with,  by  oversetting  a 
table  that  stood  upon  one  foot ;  the  table  continued  in  the 
same  situation  also  ;  through  this  money  he  had  made  two 
paths,  by  kicking  the  pieces  on  one  side,  one  of  which  led 
from  the  door  to  the  window,  the  other  from  the  window  tc 
the  bed.  When  he  quitted  the  temple  in  London,  he  left 
an  old  portmanteau  over  the  portal  of  the  ante-chamber, 
where  it  had  continued  many  years,  during  which  time  the 
chambers  had  passed  through  several  hands  ;  at  length,  a 
gentleman  who  had  possessed  them,  ordered  his  servant  to 
pull  it  down,  it  broke,  being  rotten,  and  out  fell  four  or  five 
hundred  pieces  of  gold,  which  were  found  to  belong  to  him 
from  the  papers  inclosed.  It  was  generally  supposed  at  his 
death  that  he  had  put  large  sums  into  the  hands  of  a 
banker,  or  lent  it  to  some  tradesmen  in  London,  without 
taking  any  memorandum  ;  all  which  was  lost  to  his  heirs, 
as  he  would  never  say  to  whom  he  lent  it,  through  fear 
perhaps  lest  he  should  hear  it  was  lost,  which  some  minds 
can  bear  to  suspect  though  not  to  know  positively.  After 
more  than  thirty  years  living  a  recluse,  he  was  at  last  found 


THE    MUSEUM.  77 

dead  in  his  bed,  covered  with  vermin.     Thus  ended  the  life 
of  this  whimsical  being,  at  the  age  of  seventy. 

The  gentleman  who  accompanied  him  to  the  town-hall, 
when  he  went  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  talked  with 
him  on  every  subject  he  could  recollect  without  discovering 
in  him  the  least  tincture  of  madness.  He  rallied  himself 
on  the  perpetual  motion,  laughed  at  the  folly  of  confining 
himself  in-doors,  and  he  said  he  believed  he  should  come 
abroad  again  like  other  men.  He  was  always  esteemed  a 
person  of  good  understanding  before  shutting  himself  up. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  building  a  house,  the 
walls  of  which  were  seven  feet  thick.  Probably  his  fears 
of  being  murdered  increasing  with  age,  induced  him  to 
build  this  castle-like  dwelling  to  defend  him  from  the  at- 
tacks of  thieves.  If  he  was  a  lunatic,  which  none  of  his 
friends  ever  supposed  him,  he  seems  to  have  been  so  by 
pulling  all  the  reveries  and  whimsies  of  his  brain  into  ac- 
tion.— Dr.  Shebbeare. 


KING   RICHARD  AND  THE  MINSTREL. 

THE  singular  manner  of  discovering  the  situation  of 
king  Richard  the  First,  when  a  prisoner  to  Leopold,  Duke 
of  Austria,  which  Fauchet  relates  from  an  ancient  chron- 
icle, is  thus  related  in  Mrs.  Dobson's  Literary  History  of 
the  Troubadours. 

A  minstrel  called  Blonde],  who  owed  his  fortune  to  Rich- 
ard, animated  with  tenderness  towards  his  illustrious 
master,  was  resolved  to  go  over  the  world  till  he  had 
discovered  the  destiny  of  this  Prince.  He  had  already 
traversed  Europe,  and  was  returning  through  Germany, 
when,  talking  one  day  at  Lintz,  in  Austria,  with  the  inn- 
keeper, in  order  to  make  this  discovery,  he  learnt  that  there 
was  near  the  city,  at  the  entrance  of  a  forest,  a  strong  and 
ancient  castle,  in  which  there  was  a  prisoner  who  was 
guarded  with  great  care.  A  secret  impulse  persuaded  Blon 
del  that  this  prisoner  was  Richard  ;  he  went  immediately 
to  the  castle,  the  sight  of  which  made  him  tremble ;  he  got 
acquainted  with  a  peasant,  who  went  often  there  to  cany 

29* 


78  THE    MUSEUM. 

provisions ;  questioned,  and  offered  him  a  considerable  sum 
to  declare  who  it  was  that  was  shul  up  there  ;  but  the  good 
man,  though  he  readily  told  all  he  knew,  was  ignorant 
both  of  the  name  and  quality  of  the  prisoner.  He  could 
only  inform  him,  that  he  was  watched  with  the  most  exact 
attention,  and  was  suffered  no  communication  with  any 
one  but  the  keeper  of  the  castle  and  his  servants.  He 
added,  that  the  prisoner  had  no  other  amusement  than 
looking  over  the  country  through  a  small  grated  window, 
which  served  also  for  the  light  that  glimmered  into  his 
apartment. 

He  told  him  that  this  castle  was  a  horrid  abode ;  that  the 
stair-case  and  the  apartments  were  black  with  age,  and 
so  dark,  that  at  noon-day  it  was  necessary  to  have  a 
lighted  flambeau  to  find  the  way  along  them.  Blondel 
listened  with  eager  attention,  and  meditated  several  ways 
of  coming  at  the  prison,  but  all  in  vain.  At  last,  when  he 
found  that,  from  the  height  and  narrowness  of  the  window, 
he  could  riot  get  a  sight  of  his  dear  master,  for  he  firmly 
believed  it  was  him,  he  bethought  himself  of  a  French 
song,  the  last  couplet  of  which  had  been  composed  by 
Richard,  and  the  first  by  himself.  After  he  had  sung, 
with  a  loud  and  harmonious  voice,  the  first  part,  he  sud- 
denly stopped,  and  heard  a  voice,  which  came  from  the 
castle  window,  continue  and  finish  the  song.  Transported 
with  joy,  he  was  now  assured  it  was  the  king,  his  master, 
who  was  confined  in  the  dismal  castle. 

The  chronicle  adds,  that,  one  of  the  keeper's  servants 
falling  sick,  he  hired  himself  to  him,  and  thus  made 
himself  known  to  Richard :  and  informing  his  nobles, 
with  all  possible  expedition,  of  the  situation  of  their 
monarch,  he  was  released  from  his  confinement  on  pay- 
ing a  large  ransom. 


TRAGICAL    FATE    OP  AN    AMERICAN    FAMILY. 

WILLIAM  BEADLE  was  born  in  a  little  village  near 
London.  In  the  year  1755,  he  went  out  to  Barbadoes, 
with  Governor  Penfold,  where  he  stayed  six  years,  and  then 


•THE     MUSEUM.  79 

returned  to  England.  In  1762,  he  purchased  a  small 
quantity  of  goods,  and  brought  them  to  New  York,  and 
thence  to  Stratford  in  Connecticut,  where  he  lived  two 
years.  Hence  he  removed  to  Derby,  where  he  continued  a 
year  or  two,  and  thence  to  Fairfield.  Here  he  married 
Miss  Lathrop,  a  lady  of  a  respectable  family,  belonging  to 
Massachusetts.  In  1772,  he  removed  to  Wethersfield,  and 
continued  in  this  town  about  ten  years,  sustaining  the 
character  of  a  worthy,  honest  man,  and  a  fair  dealer. 

In  the  great  controversy  which  produced  the  American 
revolution,  he  adopted  American  principles,  and  character- 
istically adhered  with  rigid  exactness  to  whatever  he  had 
once  adopted.  After  the  continental  paper  currency  began 
to  depreciate,  almost  every  trader  sold  his  goods  at  an  en- 
hanced price.  Beadle,  however,  continued  to  sell  his  at 
original  prices,  and  to  receive  the  depreciated  currency  in 
payment.  This  he  kept  by  him  until  it  had  lost  its  value. 
The  decay  of  his  property  rendered  him  melancholy,  as 
appeared  by  several  letters  which  he  left  behind  him,  ad- 
dressed to  different  persons  of  his  acquaintance. 

By  the  same  letters  and  other  writings,  it  appears  that 
he  began  even  to  entertain  designs  of  the  most  desperate 
nature  three  years  before  his  death,  but  was  induced  to 
postpone  them  by  a  hope  that  Providence  would,  in  some 
way  or  other,  change  his  circumstances  for  the  better,  so 
far  as  to  make  it  advisable  for  him  to  wait  for  death  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  events.  But  every  thing  which  took 
place,  whether  of  great  or  little  importance,  tended,  he  says, 
to  convince  him  that  it  was  his  duty  to  adopt  the  contrary 
determination.  During  all  this  time  he  managed  his  ordi- 
nary concerns  just  as  he  had  heretofore  done.  His  deport- 
ment exhibited  no  appearance  of  any  change  in  his  senti- 
ments, and  not  one  of  his  acquaintance  seems  to  have 
suspected  that  he  was  melancholy.  The  very  evening  be- 
fore the  catastrophe  to  which  I  have  alluded  took  place,  he 
was  in  company  with  several  of  his  friends,  and  conversed 
on  grave  and  interesting  subjects,  but  without  the  least  ap- 
pearance of  any  peculiar  emotion. 

On  the  morning  of  the  llth  Dec.  1782,  he  called  up  a 
female  servant,  who  slept  in  the  same  room  with  his  chil- 
dren, and  was  the  only  domestic  in  his  family,  and  directed 


80  THE    MUSEUM. 

her  to  arise  so  softly  as  not  to  disturb  the  children.  When 
she  came  down,  he  gave  her  a  note  which  he  had  written 
to  Dr.  Farnsworth,  the  family  physician,  and  told  her  to 
carry  it,  and  wait  until  the  physician  was  ready  to  come 
with  her,  informing  her  at  the  same  time,  that  Mrs.  Beadle 
had  been  ill  through  the  night.  After  the  servant  had 
gone,  as  appeared  by  the  deplorable  scene  presented  to  the 
eye  of  those  who  first  entered  the  house,  he  took  an  axe, 
struck  each  of  his  children  once,  and  his  wife  twice,  on  the 
head,  cut  their  throats  quite  across  with  a  carving  knife, 
which  he  had  prepared  for  the  purpose,  and  then  shot  him- 
self through  the  head  with  a  pistol. 

Dr.  Farnsworth  upon  opening  the  note,  found  that  it 
announced  the  diabolical  purpose  of  the  writer;  but  sup- 
posing it  impossible  that  a  sober  man  should  adopt  so 
horrible  a  design,  concluded  that  he  had  been  suddenly 
seized  by  a  delirium.  Dr.  Farnsworth,  however,  hastened 
with  the  note  to  the  Hon.  Stephen  Mitchell,  then  chief 
justice  of  the  slate.  This  gentleman  realized  the  tragedy 
at  once  :  the  house  was  immediately  opened,  and  all  the 
family  was  found  dead  in  the  manner  which  has  been 
specified. 

I  knew  this  family  intimately.  Mrs.  Beadle  possessed  a. 
very  pleading  person,  a  fine  mind,  and  delightful  conversa- 
tion. The  children  were  unusually  lovely  and  promising. 
Beadle,  in  his  writings,  which  were  numerous,  professed 
himself  a  Deist;  and  declared  that  man  was,  in  his  opin- 
ion, a  mere  machine,  unaccountable  for  his  actions,  and 
incapable  of  either  virtue  or  vice.  The  idea  of  a  revelation 
he  rejected  with  contempt.  At  the  same  time  he  repro- 
bated the  the  vices  of  others  in  the  strongest  terms,  and 
spoke  of  duty  in  the  very  same  writings,  in  language 
decisively  expressive  of  his  belief  in  the  existence  of  both 
duty  and  sin.  The  jury  of  the  inquest  pronounced  him 
to  be  of  sound  mind,  and  brought  in  a  verdict  of  mur- 
der and  suicide. 

The  inhabitants  of  Wethersfield,  frantic  with  indigna- 
tion and  horror  at  a  crime  so  unnatural  arid  monstrous, 
and  at  the  sight  of  a  lady  and  her  children,  for  whom  they 
had  the  highest  regard,  thus  butchered  by  one  who  ought 
to  have  protected  them  at  the  hazard  of  his  life :  took  his 


THE    MUSEUM.  81 

body,  as  they  found  it,  and  dragged  it  on  a  small  sledge 
to  the  bank  of  the  river,  without  any  coffin,  with  the 
bloody  knife  laid  upon  it,  and  buried  it  as  they  would 
have  buried  the  carcass  of  a  beast,  between  high  and 
low  water  mark. 

The  corpses  of  the  unhappy  family  were  the  next  day 
carried,  with  every  mark  of  respect,  to  the  church,  where  a 
sermon  was  preached  to  a  very  numerous  concourse  of  sin- 
cere mourners.  They  were  then  interred  in  the  common 
burying-ground,  and  in  one  grave.  Mrs.  Beadle  was 
thirty-two  years  of  age,  and  the  eldest  child  about  fif- 
teen. Beadle  was  fifty-two  years  of  age,  of  small  stature, 
and  of  an  ordinary  appearance.  He  was  contemplative, 
possessed  good  sense,  loved  reading,  and  delighted  in  intel- 
ligent conversation.  His  manners  were  gentlemanly,  arid 
his  disposition  hospitable;  his  countenance  exhibited  a 
strong  appearance  of  determination,  yet  he  rarely  looked 
the  person  with  whom  he  was  conversing  in  the  face, 
but  turned  his  eye  aside,  the  only  suspicious  circumstance 
which  I  observed  in  his  conduct ;  unless  a  degree  of  reserve 
and  mystery,  which  always  attended  him,  might  merit  the 
name  of  suspicion.  Such  as  he  was,  he  was  cheerfully  ad- 
mitted to  the  best  society  this  town  afforded. — Dwight. 


RETURN  TO  SAVAGE  LIFE. 

PETER  ORSAQUETTE  was  the  son  of  a  man  of  con- 
sideration among  the  Oneida  Indians,  and  was  classed 
among  a  division  of  them  designated  by  the  appellation 
of  the  Wolf  tribe.  At  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war, 
he  was  noticed  by  the  Marquis  de  la  Fayette,  a  noble- 
man, who,  to  martial  prowess  and  a  noble  zeal  for  li- 
berty, united  the  most  philanthropic  feelings.  After  the 
successful  struggle  for  independence  had  terminated,  it 
appeared  as  if  the  Marquis  still  aimed  at  the  exten- 
sion of  further  benefits  to  that  country,  towards  the 
emancipation  of  which  he  had  so  materially  contributed. 
Viewing,  therefore,  this  young  savage  with  peculiar  inter- 
est, and  anticipating  the  happy  results  to  be  derived  from 


82  THE    MUSEUM. 

his  moral  regeneration,  he  determined,  though  he  was 
scarcely  twelve  years  old,  to  take  him  to  France.  He 
arrived  at  that  period  when  Louis  XVI.  and  Maria  An- 
toinette were  still  in  the  zenith  of  their  glory.  He  was 
there  taught  every  accomplishment  of  a  gentleman ;  no 
care  was  spared  in  giving  him  every  necessary  instruction  ; 
and  to  this  was  added  the  study  of  music,  drawing,  and 
fencing,  and  he  danced  with  a  grace  that  a  Vestris  could 
not  but  admire.  At  about  eighteen,  the  period  of  his 
separation  from  a  country  where  he  had  spent  his  time  so 
agreeably  and  so  profitably,  became  necessary ;  and  laden 
with  favors  from  the  Marquis  and  the  miniatures  of  those 
friends  he  left  behind,  he  departed  for  America.  He  was 
buoyed  up,  perhaps,  with  the  idea  that  the  deep  ignorance 
in  which  the  nation  to  which  he  belonged  was  buried,  as 
well  as  the  Indians  of  the  whole  continent,  might  be  dis- 
pelled by  his  efforts,  and  that  he  might  thus  become  the 
proud  instrument  of  civilization  to  thousands.  He  came, 
soon  after  his  arrival  to  the  city  of  Albany — not  the  un- 
civilized savage,  not  with  any  of  those  marks  which 
bespoke  a  birth  in  the  forest — or  years  spent  toiling  through 
the  wilds  of  an  uncultivated  country — but  possessing  a  fine 
commanding  figure,  an  expressive  countenance,  and  an 
intelligent  eye,  with  a  face  scarcely  indicative  of  the  race 
from  which  he  was  descended.  He  presented  at  this  period 
an  interesting  spectacle;  a  child  of  the  wilderness  was 
beheld  about  to  proceed  to  the  home  of  his  forefathers, 
having  received  the  brilliant  advantages  of  a  cultivated 
mind,  and  on  his  way  to  impart  the  benefits  which  civiliza- 
tion had  given  him,  to  the  nation  that  owned  him.  It  was 
an  opportunity  for  the  philosopher  to  contemplate,  and  to 
reflect  on  the  anticipations  of  the  future  good  this  young 
Indian  might  be  the  means  of  producing.  Shortly  after  he 
arrived  in  Albany,  where  he  visited  among  the  first  fami- 
lies, he  took  advantage  of  Governor  Clinton's  journey  to 
Fort  Stanwix,  to  make  a  treaty  with  the  Indians,  to  return 
to  his  tribe.  On  the  route,  Orsaquette  amused  the  company, 
(among  whom  were  the  French  minister,  Count  Monistrers, 
and  several  gentlemen  of  respectability,)  by  his  powers  on 
various  instruments  of  music.  At  Fort  Stanwix,  after  a 
long  absence  of  several  years,  he  found  himself  again  with 


THEMTTSETTM.  83 

the  companions  of  his  early  days,  who  saw  and  recognized 
him ;  his  friends  and  relations  had  not  forgotten  him,  and 
he  was  welcomed  to  his  house  and  to  his  blanket.  But 
what  occurred  soon  after  his  reception,  led  but  to  a  too 
fearful  anticipation  of  an  unsuccessful  project,  for  the 
Oneidas,  as  if  they  could  not  acknowledge  Orsaquette, 
attired  in  the  dress  he  appeared  in  before  them,  and  think- 
ing he  had  assumed  it  out  of  shame  for  the  garb  and 
habiliments  of  his  ancestors,  tore  it  from  him  with  a  fiend- 
like  ferociousness ;  daubed  on  the  very  paint  to  which  he 
had  been  so  long  unused,  and  clothed  him  with  the  un- 
couth garments  which  the  tribe  held  sacred.  Their  fiery 
impetuosity,  in  the  performance  of  the  act,  showed  but  too 
well  the  bold  stand  they  were  about  to  make  against  the 
innovations  they  supposed  Orsaquette  was  to  be  the  means 
of  introducing  into  their  customs  and  manners,  which,  from 
the  venerable  antiquity  of  their  structure,  it  would  be  sacri- 
lege to  destroy  :  the  reformed  savage  was  taken  back  again 
to  his  native  barbarity,  and,  as  if  to  complete  its  own 
powers,  was  married. 

From  that  day  he  was  no  longer  the  accomplished  Indian, 
by  whom  every  wish  of  philanthropy  was  expected  to  be 
realized  ;  he  was  no  longer  the  instrument  by  whose  power 
the  emancipation  of  his  countrymen  from  the  thraldom  of 
ignorance  and  superstition  was  to  be  effected.  From  this 
day  Orsaquette  was  again  an  inmate  of  the  forest ;  he  was 
once  more  buried  in  his  original  obscurity ;  his  nation  only 
viewed  him  as  an  equal :  even  the  liberal  grant  of  the 
State,  failed  of  giving  him  that  superior  consideration  among 
them,  which  his  civilization  had  procured  for  him  with  the 
rest  of  mankind.  The  superiority  acquired  from  instruction, 
which  it  was  expected  would  have  excited  the  emulation 
of  all  around  him,  became  of  no  effect,  either  from  the 
natural  inferiority  of  the  savage  mind,  or  the  predetermina- 
iion  of  his  countrymen,  and  in  a  little  time,  was  wholly 
destroyed.  Orsaquette  was  lost !  His  moral  perdition  began 
from  the  hour  he  left  Fort  Stanwix.  Scarcely  three  months 
had  transpired,  before  intemperance  had  marked  him  for 
its  own,  and  soon  hurried  him  to  the  grave ;  arid  as  if  the 
very  transition  had  deadened  all  the  finer  feelings  of  his 
nature,  the  picture  the  Marquis  gave  him — the  very  picture 


84  THE    MUSEUM. 

of  his  affectionate  friend,  he  parted  with.  Poor  youth  !  we 
cannot  refrain  from  letting  a  tear  fall  to  thy  memory.  In 
the  downfall  of  our  high  raised  expectations,  you  stand 
before  us,  as  a  melancholy  though  forcible  illustration,  that 
"  our  thoughts,  our  morals,  and  our  most  fixed  belief,  are 
consequences  of  our  place  of  birth."  How  short  was  the 
period  of  thy  return  !  Scarcely  had  we,  in  suffering  our 
imaginations  the  fullest  freedom,  looked  into  futurity,  and 
unveiled  a  picture  in  the.  contemplation  of  which  our  hearts 
had  expanded  ;  scarcely  had  we,  at  the  sight,  enjoyed  a 
noble  feast, — before  the  picture  itself  is  destroyed,  leaving 
behind  only  a  few  recollections  of  its  vivid  colors.  To  him 
the  short  lived  pleasures  of  the  world  "passed  like  fleeting 
dreams."  One  day,  a  civilized  Indian,  proud  of  the 
awakening  faculties  of  his  mind, — the  next,  an  unrecog- 
nized wreck  of  his  former  self ! 


THE    INDIANS    AND    THE    HIGHLANDER. 

THE  following  narrative  is  translated  from  the  French,  of 
the  Abbe  Resnal's  History  of  the  European  settlements  in 
the  two  Indies. 

The  Spanish  settlement  of  St.  Augustine,  was  attacked 
in  the  year  1747,  by  the  English,  who  were  obliged  to  raise 
the  seige:  at  which  time  a  party  of  Highlanders,  who  at- 
tempted to  cover  their  retreat,  were  routed  and  great  num- 
bers of  them  cut  to  pieces.  A  sergeant,  being  taken  prisoner 
by  the  Spanish  Indians,  was  reserved  for  that  lingering 
death  (of  roasting  by  a  slow  fire)  to  which  those  savages  de- 
voted their  prisoners.  This  unfortunate  soldier,  when  he 
beheld  the  preparations  for  the  horrid  tortures  that  attended 
him.  being  well  acquainted  with  the  Indian  language  from 
some  years  residence  in  Georgia,  with  equal  plausibility  and 
resolution,  addressed  the  unrelenting  barbarians  in  a  speech 
to  the  following  purport : — 

"  Heroes  and  patriarchs  of  the  new  world,  you  were  not 
the  enemies  I  sought  to  meet ;  you  have,  however,  gained 
the  victory.  Make  what  use  of  it  you  think  fit.  The  fate 
of  war  hath  delivered  me  into  your  hands ;  and  I  dispute 
not  your  right.  But,  since  it  is  the  custom  of  my  fellow 


THEMTJSETTM.  85 

citizens  to  offer  a  ransom  for  their  lives,  listen  to  a  proposi 
tion  which  is  not  to  be  rejected.  Know  then,  brave  Ameri- 
cans !  that,  in  the  country  which  gave  me  birth,  there  are 
certain  men  endowed  with  supernatural  knowledge.  One 
of  these  sages,  who  was  allied  to  me  by  blood,  gave  me, 
when  I  became  a  soldier,  a  charm  which  was  to  render  me 
invulnerable.  You  saw  how  I  escaped  all  your  darts ;  with- 
out that  enchantment  was  it  possible  I  should  have  survived 
the  many  hard  blows  with  which  you  assailed  me  ?  I  ap- 
peal to  your  valor.  Did  I  either  seek  for  ease  or  fly  from 
danger  ?  It  is  not  so  much  my  life  that  I  now  beg  of  you, 
as  the  glory  of  revealing  a  secret  of  importance  to  your  pre- 
servation, and  of  rendering  the  most  valiant  nation  in  the 
world  immortal.  Only  leave  one  of  my  hands  at  liberty, 
for  the  ceremonies  of  the  enchantment,  I  will  give  a  proof  of 
its  power  upon  myself  in  your  presence." 

The  Indians  hearkened  with  avidity  to  a  speech  that 
equally  suited  their  warlike  disposition  and  their  inclination 
towards  the  marvellous.  After  a  short  deliberation,  they 
unloosed  one  of  the  prisoner's  arms.  The  Scotchman  re- 
quested that  his  broad  sword  should  be  given  to  the  most 
alert  and  most  vigorous  person  in  the  assembly  ;  and  laying 
bare  his  neck,  after  he  had  rubbed  it  over  with  magic  signs, 
and  muttered  a  few  inarticulate  words,  he  called  out,  with  a 
loud  voice  and  a  cheerful  air : 

"  Behold  ye  now,  sage  Indians  !  an  incontestible  evidence 
of  my  sincerity.  You  warrior,  who  grasp  the  instrument 
of  death,  strike  with  your  whole  force ;  you  are  not  only 
unable  to  sever  my  head  from  my  body,  but  even  to  pierce 
the  skin  of  my  neck  !"  He  had  scarcely  pronounced  these 
words  when  the  Indian,  fetching  a  most  dreadful  blow, 
made  the  head  of  the  sergeant  fly  to  the  distance  of  twenty 
paces. 

The  astonished  savages  stood  immovable.  They  looked 
at  the  bloody  carcass,  and  then  cast  their  eyes  upon  them- 
selves, as  if  to  reproach  one  another  for  their  stupid  credulity. 
Admiring,  however,  the  stratagem  employed  by  the  stranger 
to  shorten  his  death,  and  to  avoid  the  torments  that  were  pre- 
pared for  him,  they  granted  to  his  corpse  the  funeral  honors 
of  their  country. 

oU 


66  THE    MUSEUM 


NARROW   ESCAPE   OF    A    SWISS    SOLDIER. 

AT  the  dreadful  epoch  of  the  affair  of  Nanci,  during  the 
French  Revolution,  twenty-two  soldiers  of  the  regiment  of 
Chateau  Vieux  were  condemned  to  condign  punishmeni. 
As  the  fatal  procession  was  passing  through  a  narrow  street, 
one  of  the  soldiers  condemned,  contrived,  amidst  the  press, 
to  slip  unobserved  into  a  passage,  the  door  of  which  was 
open.  It  was  the  house  of  his  mistress.  Conceive  her 
transport  to  find  her  lover  in  her  arms,  at  the  moment  she 
was  bewailing  his  death.  One  victim  at  the  place  of  exe- 
cution was  found  wanting.  Search  was  every  where  made 
for  the  fugitive,  but  in  vain.  It  was  renewed  with  all  the 
keenness  and  sagacity  of  blood-hounds;  but  the  destined 
object  of  vengeance  eluded  the  utmost  penetration  and  dili- 
gence of  his  pursuers.  He  was  all  this  time  confined  in 
a  corn  loft,  where  he  had  been  secreted  by  his  mistress,  and 
where  she  had  found  means  to  nourish  him  for  three 
months,  unknown  to  her  parents.  A  rich  farmer  of  Basle, 
who  had  heard  nothing  of  his  son  since  the  carnage  of 
Nanci,  and  the  horrible  execution  of  the  Swiss,  could  no 
longer  resist  his  uneasiness,  and  the  anxiety  he  felt  to  be 
certain  of  his  fate.  For  this  purpse  he  undertook  a  jour- 
ney to  Nanci :  but  though  his  concern  excited  pity,  and  his 
inquiries  interested  all  to  whom  they  were  addressed,  there 
were  none  who  could  afford  him  the  desired  intelligence.  At 
last  he  learned  with  transport,  that  his  son  had  escaped  the 
fate  of  his  companions,  and  was  directed  by  a  soldier  to  the 
house  of  his  mistress,  as  a  place  where  it  was  probable  he 
might  get  further  information.  He  repaired  immediately 
to  the  house,  but  the  girl  pretended  entire  ignorance,  and 
notwithstanding  the  particulars  of  his  family,  which  he 
mentioned  in  their  conversation,  she  preserved  the  most 
cautious  silence.  She  promised,  however,  to  make  inquiry, 
and  desired  him  to  return  in  an  hour.  The  soldier  imme- 
diately recognized  his  father  in  the  stranger,  from  the  de- 
scription given  by  his  Antoinette.  The  farmer  returned  to 
a  minute,  and  son  and  father  flew  into  each  other's  arms 
with  all  the  ardor  which  such  a  meeting  might  be  sup- 
posed to  produce.  As  soon  as  the  first  transports  were  over, 


THE     MUSEUM.  87 

the  father  joined  the  hands  of  the  young  couple,  pronounc- 
ing over  them  a  paternal  benediction :  "  You  have  pre- 
served his  life,"  said  he  to  her,  "  the  only  recompense  I  can 
offer  you,  is  himself." 


HEROIC    RESOLUTION    OF    LADY    HARRIET    ACKLAND. 

LADY  HARRIET  ACKLAND  had  accompanied  her  husband 
to  Canada,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1776.  In  the  course 
of  that  campaign,  she  traversed  a  vast  space  of  country,  in 
different  extremities  of  the  season,  and  with  difficulties  that 
an  European  traveller  will  not  easily  conceive,  to  attend  in 
a  poor  hut  in  Chambly  upon  his  sick  bed.  In  the  opening 
of  the  campaign,  in  1777,  she  was  restrained  from  offering 
herself  to  a  share  of  the  fatigue  and  hazard  expected  before 
Ticonderoga,  by  the  positive  injunctions  of  her  husband. 
The  day  after  the  conquest  of  that  place,  he  was  badly 
wounded,  and  she  crossed  Lake  Champlain  to  join  him. 

As  soon  as  he  recovered,  Lady  Harriet  proceeded  to  fol- 
low his  fortunes  through  the  campaign,  and  at  Fort  Ed- 
ward, or  at  the  next  camp,  she  acquired  a  two-wheel 
tumbril,  which  had  been  constructed  by  the  artificers  of  the 
artillery,  something  similar  to  the  carriage  used  for  the  mail 
on  the  great  roads  in  England.  Major  Ackland  com- 
manded the  British  grenadiers,  which  were  attached  to 
Frazer's  corps ;  and  consequently  were  always  the  most  ad- 
vanced post  of  the  army.  Their  situations  were  often  so 
alert,  that  no  person  slept  out  of  their  clothes.  In  one  of 
these  situations,  a  tent,  in  which  the  Major  and  Lady  Har- 
riet were  asleep,  suddenly  took  fire.  An  orderly  sergeant 
of  grenadiers,  with  great  hazard  of  suffocation,  dragged  out 
the  first  person  he  caught  hold  of.  It  proved  to  be  the 
Major.  It  happened,  at  the  same  instant,  she  had,  un- 
knowing what  she  did,  and  perhaps  not  perfectly  awake, 
providentially  made  her  escape,  by  creeping  under  the 
walls  of  the  back  part  of  the  tent.  The  first  object  she 
saw  on  the  recovery  of  her  senses,  was  the  Major  on  the 
other  side,  and  in  the  same  instant  again  in  the  fire  in 
search  of  her.  The  sergeant  again  saved  him,  but  not 


88  THE    MUSEUM  . 

without  the  Major  being  severely  burned  in  the  face,  and  in 
different  parts  of  the  body.  Every  thing  they  had  with 
them  in  the  tent  was  consumed. 

This  accident  happened  a  little  before  the  army  passed 
Hudson  river.  It  neither  altered  the  resolution,  nor  the 
cheerfulness  of  Lady  Harriet ;  and  she  continued  her  pro- 
gress, a  partaker  of  the  fatigues  of  the  advanced  corps.  The 
next  call  upon  her  fortitude  was  of  a  different  nature,  and 
more  distressful,  as  of  longer  suspense.  On  the  march  of 
the  19th  of  September,  the  grenadiers  being  liable  to  action 
at  every  step,  she  had  been  directed  by  the  Major  to  follow 
the  route  of  the  artillery  and  baggage,  which  was  not  expo- 
sed. At  the  time  the  action  began,  she  found  herself  near 
a  small  uninhabited  hut,  where  she  alighted.  When  it  was 
found  the  action  was  becoming  general  and  bloody,  the  sur- 
geons of  the  hospital  took  possession  of  the  same  place,  as 
the  most  convenient  for  the  first  care  of  the  wounded.  Thus 
was  this  lady,  in  hearing  of  one  continual  fire  of  cannon  and 
musketry,  for  four  hours  together,  with  the  presumption, 
from  the  post  of  her  husband  with  the  grenadiers,  that  he 
was  in  the  most  exposed  part  of  the  action.  She  had  three 
female  companions,  the  baroness  of  Reidesel,  and  the  wives 
of  two  British  officers,  Major  Harnage,  and  Lieut.  Reyuell ; 
but  in  the  event  their  presence  served  but  little  for  comfort, 
Major  Harnage  was  soon  brought  to  the  surgeons  very  badly 
wounded ;  and  a  little  after  came  intelligence  that  Lieut. 
Reynell  was  shot  dead.  Imagination  will  want  no  helps  to 
figure  the  state  of  the  whole  group. 

From  the  date  of  that  action  to  the  7th  of  October,  Lady 
Harriet,  with  her  usual  serenity,  stood  prepared  for  new 
trials ;  and  it  was  her  lot,  that  their  severity  increased  with 
their  numbers.  She  was  again  exposed  to  the  hearing  of  the 
whole  action,  and  at  last  received  the  shock  of  her  individ- 
ual misfortune,  mixed  with  the  intelligence  of  the  general 
calamity,  that  the  troops  were  defeated,  and  that  Major  Ack- 
land,  desperately  wounded,  was  a  prisoner. 

The  day  of  the  8th  was  passed  by  Lady  Harriet  and  her 
companions  in  inexpressible  anxiety ;  not  a  tent,  not  a  shed 
was  standing,  except  what  belonged  to  the  hospital ;  their 
refuge  was  among  the  wounded  and  dying. 

The  night  of  the  8th  the  army  retreated,  and  at  day  break 


THE    MUSEUM.  89 

on  the  9th  reached  very  advantageous  ground.  A  halt  was 
necessary  to  refresh  the  troops,  and  to  give  time  to  the 
batteaux,  loaded  with  provisions,  to  come  abreast. 

When  the  army  was  on  the  point  of  moving  after  the  halt, 
I  received  a  message  from  Lady  Harriet,  submitting  to  my 
decision  a  proposal,  of  passing  to  the  camp  of  the  enemy, 
and  requesting  General  Gates'  permission  to  attend  her 
husband.  Lady  Harriet  expressed  an  earnest  solicitude  to 
execute  her  intention,  if  not  interfering  with  my  designs. 
Though  I  was  ready  to  believe,  for  I  had  experienced 
that  patience  and  fortitude,  in  a  supreme  degree,  were  to  be 
found,  as  well  as  every  other  virtue,  under  the  most  tender 
forms,  I  was  astonished  at  the  proposal.  After  so  long  an 
agitation  of  the  spirits,  exhausted  not  only  for  wani  of  rest, 
but  the  absolute  \vant  of  food,  drenched  in  rain  for  twelve 
hours  together,  that  a  woman  should  be  capable  of  such  an 
undertaking  as  delivering  herself  to  the  enemy,  probably  in 
the  night ;  and  uncertain  of  what  hands  she  might  fall  into, 
appeared  an  effort  above  human  nature.  The  assistance  I 
was  enabled  to  give  was  small  ind  :ed ;  1  had  not  even  a  cup 
of  wine  to  offer  her ;  but  I  was  told  she  had  found,  from  some 
kind  and  unfortunate  hand,  a  little  rum  and  dirty  water. 
All  I  could  furnish  her,  was  an  open  boat  and  a  few  lines 
written  upon  dirty  and  wet  paper  to  General  Gates,  recom- 
mending her  to  his  protection. 

Mr.  Brudenell,  the  chaplain  to  the  artillery,  the  same  gen- 
tlemen that  had  officiated  so  signally  at  General  Frazer's 
funeral,  readily  undertook  to  accompany  her,  and  with  one 
female  servant,  and  the  Major's  valet  de  chambre,  who  had 
a  ball  which  he  had  received  in  the  late  action  then  in  his 
shoulder,  she  rowed  down  the  river  to  meet  the  enemy. 
But  her  distresses  were  not  yet  at  an  end.  The  night  was 
advanced  before  the  boat  reached  the  enemy's  out-posts,  and 
the  sentinel  would  not  let  it  pass,  nor  even  come  on  shore. 
In  vain  Mr.  Brudenell  offered  the  flag  of  truce,  and  repre- 
sented the  state  of  the  extraordinary  passenger.  The  guard, 
apprehensive  of  treachery,  and  punctilious  to  his  orders, 
threatened  to  fire  into  the  boat  if  it  stirred  before  day-light. 
Her  anxiety  and  suffering  were  thus  protracted  through 
seven  or  eight  dark  and  cold  hours  ;  and  her  reflections  upon 
that  first  reception  could  not  give  her  very  encouraging  ideas 

30* 


WU  T  H  E    M  U  S  E  V  M  . 

of  the  treatment  she  was  afterwards  to  expect.  But  it  is  due 
to  justice  at  the  close  of  this  adventure  to  say,  that  she  was 
received  and  accommodated  by  General  Gates,  with  all  the 
humanity  and  respect  that  her  rank,  her  merits,  and  her  for- 
tunes deserved. 

Let  such  as  are  affected  by  these  circumstances  of  alarm, 
hardship  and  danger,  recollect,  that  the  subject  of  them  was 
a  woman,  of  the  most  tender  and  delicate  frame ;  of  the 
gentlest  manners ;  habituated  to  all  the  soft  elegances,  and 
refined  enjoyments,  that  attend  high  birth  and  fortune ;  and 
far  advanced  in  a  state  in  which  the  tender  cares,  always 
due  to  the  sex,  becomes  indispensably  necessary.  Her  mind 
alone  was  formed  for  such  trials. —  General  Burgoynds 
Narrative. 


DREADFUL    EFFECTS    OF    BLOOD-MONEY. 

THE  reward  of  forty  pounds  on  conviction  of  felony^ 
though  originally  intended  to  promote  vigilance  in  the 
officers  of  justice,  has  been  frequently  perverted  to  the  most 
diabolical  purposes.  Individuals  have  not  only  been  se- 
duced to  commit  crimes,  in  order  that  the  informer  might 
obtain  the  price  of  blood,  but  the  criminal  records  of  this 
country  afford  many  melancholy  instances  in  which  inno- 
cent men  have  been  convicted  on  the  perjured  evidence  of 
conspirators. 

Blood-money  and  its  perversions,  are  not,  however,  of 
modern  date ;  they  seem  to  have  been  well  understood  as 
long  ago  as  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Third,  when  an 
appeal  of  murder  was  made  a  source  of  profit.  The  pre- 
amble of  a  statute  enacted  in  the  reign  of  that  monarch, 
states,  in  substance,  that  it  was  the  acknowledged  practice 
of  officers  of  justice,  to  compel  their  prisoners,  by  cruel 
treatment,  to  challenge  innocent  persons  with  the  perpetra- 
tion of  heavy  crimes,  with  a  view  to  the  extortion  of  ransom 
money  from  them,  under  the  dread  of  punishment;  and 
that  the  statute  was  framed  for  the  correction  of  so  enormous 
an  evil. 

The  following  tragic  and  horrible  crime  affords  a  most 


THE    MUSEUM.  9] 

impressive  lesson  on  this  subject,  and  exhibits,  perhaps,  the 
most  dreadful  instance  upon  record,  of  the  facility  wit1 
which  determined  villainy  may  pervert  measures  intendet 
to  benefit  and  protect  mankind,  into  bitter  and  scourging 
oppression.     A  few  years  ago,  the  green  of  a  rich  bleachei 
in  the  north  of  Ireland,  had  been  frequently  robbed  at  night 
to  a  very  considerable  amount,  notwithstanding  the  utmost 
vigilance  of  the  proprietor  and  his  servants  to  protect  it ;  and 
without  the  slightest  clue  being  furnished  for  the  detection 
of  the  robber. 

Effectually  and  repeatedly  baffled  by  the  ingenuity  of  the 
thief  or  thieves,  the  proprietor  at  length  offered  a  reward  of 
£100  for  the  apprehension  of  any  person  or  persons  de- 
tected in  the  act  of  robbing  the  green. 

A  few  days  after  this  proclamation,  the  master  was  at 
midnight  roused  from  his  bed  by  the  alarm  of  a  faithful 
servant,  who  in  the  tones  of  alarm  and  agitation  informed 
him  "  there  was  some  person  with  a  lantern  now  crossing 
the  green."  The  master  started  from  his  bed,  flew  to  the 
window  and  found  his  information  correct,  it  was  so  in 
fact ;  he  hurried  on  his  clothes,  and  armed  himself  with  a 
loaded  pistol,  the  servant  flew  for  his  own  loaded  musket, 
and  thus  prepared  they  cautiously  followed  the  light.  The 
person  with  a  lantern  (a  man)  was,  as  they  approached  on 
"  tiptoe,"  distinctly  seen  stooping,  and  earnestly  employed 
feeling  about  on  the  ground  ;  he  was  seen  lifting  and 
tumbling  the  linen ;  the  master's  conclusion  was,  as  may 
be  imagined,  quickly  made ;  the  servant  fired,  the  robber 
fell.  The  man  and  master  now  proceeded  to  examine  the 
spot.  The  robber  was  shot  dead :  and  he  was  now,  to 
their  astonishment,  recognized  to  be  a  youth  of  about  nine- 
teen, who  resided  but.  a  few  fields  off.  The  linen  was  cut 
across ;  large  bundles  of  it  were  tied  up,  as  if  in  readiness 
for  removal ;  and  upon  searching  and  examining  further, 
the  servant,  in  the  presence  of  his  master,  picked  up  a  pen- 
knife, with  the  name  of  the  unhappy  youth  engraved  upon 
the  handle.  This  mass  of  circumstantial  evidence  was 
conclusive,  for  in  the  morning  the  lantern  was  acknow- 
ledged by  the  afflicted  and  heart-broken  father  of  the  boy, 
to  be  his  son's  lantern.  The  unhappy  man  would  have 
asserted  his  son's  innocence,  and  with  a  pure  conscience, 


92  THE    MUSEUM. 

but  defence  was  dumb,  astonishment  sealed  his  lips,  the 
evidence  before  him  overpowered  his  belief  and  his  parental 
feelings. 

The  faithful  servant  received  the  hundred  pounds  re- 
ward, and  was,  besides,  promoted  to  be  the  confidential 
overseer  of  the  establishment.  The  blood  curdles  in  the 
veins,  when  we  learn  the  remaining  acts  of  this  tragedy. 
This  faithful  servant,  this  confidential  overseer,  was  shortly 
after  proved  to  have  been  himself  the  thief!  and  was 
hanged  at  Dundalk  for  the  murder  of  the  youth  he  had  so 
cruelly  betrayed. 

It  appeared,  upon  the  clearest  evidence,  and  by  the  dying 
confession  and  description  of  the  wretch  himself,  that  all 
the  overpowering  mass  of  circumstantial  evidence  we  have 
related,  was  preconcerted  by  him,  not  only  to  screen  himself 
from  the  imputation  of  former  robberies,  but  to  obtain  the 
proffered  reward  of  one  hundred  pounds.  The  unhappy 
dupe,  the  innocent  victim  he  chose  for  this  diabolical  sacrifice, 
was  an  industrious  lad  of  the  neigborhood.  on  whom  an  aged 
father  wholly  depended  for  support :  he  was  artless,  affec- 
tionate, and  obliging.  The  boy  had  a  favorite  knife,  a  pen- 
knife, which  had  his  name  engraved  upon  its  handle,  the 
keepsake  of  some  loving  friend.  The  first  act  of  this  fiend 
was,  to  coax  him  to  transfer  to  him  that  knife  as  a  pledge 
of  their  friendship,  and  this,  as  may  be  imagined,  was  not 
easy  to  effect,  but  it  was  done.  On  the  evening  of  the 
fatal  day,  the  miscreant  prepared  the  bleaching  green,  the 
theatre  of  this  melancholy  murder,  for  his  dreadful  per- 
formance. He  tore  the  linen  from  the  pegs  in  some  places, 
and  cut  it  across  in  others  ;  he  turned  it  up  in  heaps,  and 
tied  it  up  in  the  large  bundles  in  which  it  was  found,  as  if 
ready  to  be  moved,  and  placed  the  favorite  knife,  the  keep- 
sake, in  one  of  the  cuts  he  had  himself  made. 

Matters  being  thus  prepared,  he  invited  the  devoted 
youth  to  supper,  and  as  the  nights  were  dark,  he  recom- 
mended him  to  provide  himself  with  a  lantern  to  light  him 
home.  At  supper,  or  shortly  after,  he  artfully  turned  the 
conversation  oft  the  favorite  knife,  which  he  affected  with 
great  concern,  to  have  lately  missed,  and  pretended  that 
the  last  recollection  he  had  of  it,  was  his  using  it  on  a  par- 
ticular spot  of  the  bleaching  green,  described  that  spot  to 


THE    MUSEUM.  93 

die  obliging  and  unsuspecting  youth,  and  begged  him  to 
see  if  it  was  there.  The  lantern  he  had  been  desired  to 
bring  with  him  to  light  him  home,  was  prepared,  and  he 
proceeded  with  the  alacrity  of  good  nature  on  his  fatal  er- 
rand. As  soon  as  the  monster  saw  his  victim  completely 
in  the  snare,  he  gave  the  alarm  to  his  master,  and  the 
melancholy  and  horrible  crime  described  was  committed, 
under  the  approving  eye  and  hand  of  the  deceived  mas- 
ter himself. 

Could  there  have  been  possibly  a  stronger  case  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  than  this?  The  young  man  seemed 
actually  caught  in  the  act.  The  knife  with  his  name  on 
it  was  found  upon  the  spot;  the  linen  cut  and  tied  up  in 
bundles  for  removal;  the  lantern  acknowledged  by  his 
father  to  be  his  own  ;  the  night  chosen  for  its  darkness ; 
the  midnight ;  the  master  himself  present,  a  man  of  the 
fairest  character ;  the  unsuspected  servant,  a  faithful  crea- 
ture of  unblemished  reputation  ! ! 


PROPHECY    THE    CAUSE    OF    ITS    OWN    COMPLETION. 

AN  English  gentleman  residing  at  Berlin,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  execution  of  a  man  who  was  told 
that  he  should  be  hanged.  "  I  went  a  few  days  since," 
says  he,  "  to  see  a  man  executed  for  the  murder  of  a  child." 
His  motives  for  this  horrid  deed  were  much  more  extraordi- 
nary than  the  action  itself.  He  had  accompanied  some  of  his 
companions  to  the  house  of  a  fellow,  who  assumed  the 
character  of  a  fortune-teller,  and  having  disobliged  him,  by 
expressing  a  contempt  of  his  art,  the  fellow,  out  of  revenge, 
prophesied  that  this  man  should  die  on  the  scaffold.  This 
seemed  to  make  little  impression  at  the  time,  but  afterwards 
recurred  often  to  this  unhappy  creature's  memory,  and  be- 
came every  day  more  troublesome  to  his  imagination.  At 
length  the  idea  haunted  his  mind  so  incessantly,  thai  he 
was  rendered  perfectly  miserable,  and  could  no  longer  en- 
dure life.  He  would  have  put  himself  to  death  with  his 
own  hands,  but  he  had  been  deterred  by  the  notion,  that 
God  Almighty  never  forgave  suicide ;  though  upon  repent- 


U4  T  H  E    M  IT  S  E  T7  M  . 

ance,  he  is  very  ready  to  pardon  every  other  crime.  He 
resolved,  therefore,  to  commit  murder,  that  he  might  be  de- 
prived of  life  by  the  hands  of  justice ;  and,  mingling  a  sen- 
timent of  benevolence  with  the  cruelty  of  his  intention,  he 
reflected  that  if  he  murdered  a  grown  person,  he  might  possi- 
bly send  a  soul  to  hell.  To  avoid  this,  he  determined  to  mur- 
der a  child,  who  could  not  have  committed  any  sin,  which 
deserved  damnation,  but,  dying  in  innocence,  would  go  im- 
mediately to  heaven.  In  consequence  of  these  ideas,  he 
actually  murdered  an  infant  of  his  master's,  for  whom  he 
had  always  shown  an  uncommon  degree  of  fondness. 
Such  was  the  strange  account  which  this  infatuated  crea- 
ture gave  on  his  trial,  and  thus  the  random  prophecy 
proved,  as  in  many  other  cases,  the  cause  of  its  own  com- 
pletion. He  was  executed  about  two  miles  from  Berlin. 
As  soon  as  he  ascended  the  scaffold,  he  took  off  his  coat 
and  waistcoat ;  his  shirt  was  rolled  down  below  his  shoul- 
ders; his  night-cap  was  pulled  over  his  eyes:  he  was 
placed  on  his  knees,  and  the  executioner,  with  a  single 
stroke  of  the  broad-sword,  severed  his  head  from  his  body. 
It  was  the  first  time  this  executioner  had  performed :  there 
were  two  others  of  the  same  trade  on  the  scaffold,  who  ex- 
hibited an  instance  of  insensibility,  more  shocking  than  the 
execution.  While  the  man's  head  rolled  on  the  scaffold, 
and  the  arteries  of  the  trunk  poured  out  their  blood,  these 
men,  with  the  gayest  air  you  can  imagine,  shook  their 
brother  by  the  hand,  wished  him  joy,  clapped  him  on  the 
back,  congratulating  him  on  the  dexterous  and  effectual 
manner  in  which  he  had  performed  his  office. 


ACCOUNT    OF    TOPHAM,    THE    FAMOUS    STRONG    MAN. 

WE  learn  from  private  accounts,  well  attested,  that 
Thomas  Topham,  a  man  who  kept  a  public  house  at  Isling- 
ton, performed  surprising  feats  of  strength;  as  breaking 
a  broom-stick  of  the  first  magnitude,  by  striking  it  against 
his  bare  arm,  lifting  two  hogsheads  of  water,  heaving  his 
horse  over  the  turnpike  gate,  carrying  the  beam  of  a  house 
as  a  soldier  his  firelock,  &c.  But  however  belief  might 


THEMTJSEUM.  95 

stagger,  she  soon  recovered  herself,  when  this  second  Samp- 
son appeared  at  Derby  as  a  performer  in  public  at  a  shilling 
each.  Upon  application  to  Alderman  Cooper  for  leave  to 
exhibit,  the  magistrate  was  surprised  at  the  feats  he  pro- 
posed, and  as  his  appearance  was  like  that  of  other  men, 
he  requested  him  to  strip,  that  he  might  examine  whether 
he  was  made  like  them ;  but  he  was  found  to  be  extremely 
muscular.  What  were  hollows  under  the  arms  and  hams 
of  others,  were  filled  up  with  ligaments  in  him. 

He  appeared  near  five  feet  ten,  turned  of  thirty,  well  made 
but  nothing  singular ;  he  walked  with  a  small  limp.  He 
had  formerly  laid  a  wager,  the  usual  decider  of  disputes,  that 
three  horses  could  not  draw  him  from  a  post  which  he  should 
clasp  with  his  feet ;  but  the  driver  giving  them  a  sudden 
lash,  turned  them  aside,  and  the  unexpected  jerk  had  broke 
his  tbigh. 

The  performances  of  this  wonderful  man,  in  whom  were 
united  the  strength  of  twelve,  were  rolling  up  a  pewter  dish 
of  seven  pounds  as  a  man  rolls  up  a  sheet  of  paper ;  holding 
a  pewter  quart  at  arm's  length,  and  squeezing  the  sides  to- 
gether like  an  egg-shell ;  lifting  two  hundred  weight  with 
his  little  finger,  and  moving  it  gently  over  his  head.  The 
bodies  he  touched  seemed  to  have  lost  their  powers  of  grav- 
itation. He  also  broke  a  rope  fastened  to  the  floor,  that 
would  sustain  twenty  hundred  weight ;  lifted  an  oak  table 
six  feet  long  with  his  teeth  though  half  a  hundred  weight 
was  hung  to  the  extremity ;  a  piece  of  leather  was  fixed  to 
one  end  for  his  teeth  to  hold,  two  of  the  feet  stood  upon  his 
knees,  and  he  raised  the  end  with  the  weight  higher  than  that 
in  his  mouth.  He  took  Mr.  Chambers,  Vicar  of  All  Saints, 
who  weighted  27  stone,  and  raised  him  with  one  hand.  His 
head  laid  on  one  chair  and  his  feet  on  another,  four  people 
(14  stone  each)  sat  upon  his  body,  which  he  heaved  at  plea- 
sure. He  struck  a. round  bar  of  iron,  one  inch  in  diameter, 
against  his  naked  arm,  and  at  one  stroke  bent  it  like  a  bow. 
Weakness  and  feeling  seemed  fled  together. 

Being  a  master  of  music,  he  entertained  the  company 
with  Mad  Tom.  I  heard  him  sing  a  solo  to  the  organ  in 
St.  Warburgh's  church,  then  the  only  one  in  Derby ;  but 
though  he  might  perform  with  judgment,  yet  the  voice, 
more  terrible  than  sweet,  scarcely  seemed  human.  Though 


96  THEMUSETJM. 

of  a  pacific  temper  and  with  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman, 
yet  he  was  liable  to  the  insults  of  the  rude.  The  ostler  at 
the  Virgin's  Inn,  where  he  resided,  having  given  him  dis- 
gust, he  took  one  of  the  kitchen  spits  from  the  mantel-piece, 
and  bent  it  round  his  neck  like  a  handkerchief;  but  as  he 
did  not  choose  to  tuck  the  ends  in  the  ostler's  bosom,  the 
cumbrous  ornament  excited  the  laugh  of  the  company  till 
he  condescended  to  untie  his  iron  cravat.  Had  he  not 
abounded  with  good  nature,  the  men  might  have  been  in  fear 
for  the  safety  of  their  persons,  and  the  women  for  that  of 
their  pewter  shelves,  as  he  could  instantly  roll  up  both.  One 
blow  with  his  fist  would  for  ever  have  silenced  those  heroes 
of  the  Bear  garden,  Johnson  and  Mendoza. 

At  the  time  of  his  death,  which  happened  10th  of  August, 
1769,  he  kept  a  public  house  in  Hog-lane,  Shoreditch.  Hav- 
ing two  days  before  a  quarrel  with  his  wife,  he  stabbed  her 
in  the  breast.,  and  immediately  gave  himself  several  wounds 
which  proved  fatal  to  him.  His  wife,  however,  recovered. 

European  Magazine. 


PATRIOTIC    FANATICISM. 

FATIGUED  and  exhausted  by  forced  marches,  a  regiment 
of  the  infantry  of  the  guard  of  Jerome,  the  ex-king  of  West- 
phalia, arrived  before  the  monastery  of  Figueiras  in  Spain. 
The  colonel  of  the  regiment,  a  Frenchman,  sent  in  an  officer, 
to  demand  of  the  prior  the  necessary  refreshment  for  the 
men,  as  well  as  for  the  staff,  consisting  of  about  twenty  offi- 
cers. The  prior,  with  some  of  the  monks,  came  out  to  meet 
the  general,  assured  him  that  the  inhabitants  of  Figueiras, 
would  provide  for  the  soldiers,  but  that  he  himself  would 
prepare  a  frugal  meal  for  the  staff.  The  prior's  offer  was 
accepted.  Captain  Korff  received  from  the  general  some 
commissions  for  the  regiment,  and  about  an  hour  afterwards 
it  was  announced  to  the  prior,  that  the  dinner  was  served  up 
in  the  refectory  of  the  monastery.  The  general,  who  was 
aware  that  the  French  in  Spain,  had  reason  to  be  on  their 
guard  in  eating  and  drinking  what  was  offered  by  the  na- 
tives, invited  the  prior  to  dine  with  them :  he  and  two  other 


THE    MUSEUM.  97 

monks  accepted  the  invitation,  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  leave 
no  doubt  that  he  felt  himself  much  flattered  by  it.  After 
the  officers  had  taken  their  seals,  the  prior  said  grace,  carved, 
eat  of  every  dish  first,  and  with  his  two  brethren,  who  pour- 
ed out  the  wine,  drank  plentifully  with  his  guests.  The 
general  expressed  his  satisfaction  to  the  prior,  whose  kind 
reception  had  surpassed  all  expectation.  Suddenly,  how- 
ever the  cheerfulness  of  the  prior  was  changed  into  pro- 
found seriousness;  he  rose  from  his  seat,  thanked  the  com- 
pany for  the  honor  they  had  done  him,  and  concluded  by 
asking  if  any  of  them  had  affairs  to  settle  in  this  world  ?  add- 
ing with  emphasis,  "  this,  gentlemen,  is  the  last  meal  you  and 
I  shall  take  on  earth :  in  an  hour  we  shall  all  be  before  the 
judgment  seat  of  God  !"  Cold  and  trembling  horror  seized 
the  amazed  guests ;  for  the  prior  and  his  two  monks  had 
poisoned  the  wine  in  which  they  had  pledged  the  French 
officers.  All  the  antidotes  given  by  the  French  physicians 
were  in  vain  ;  in  less  than  an  hour  every  man  of  them  had 
ceased  to  live. 


SINGULAR    ESTABLISHMENT    OP   AN  AMERICAN    COLONY. 

AT  a  fine  settlement,  called  Nuthush,  from  a  creek  of 
that  name,  I  fell  into  company,  says  Mr.  Smith,  with  one 
of  the  most  singular  persons,  ana  eccentric  geniuses  in 
America,  and  perhaps  in  the  world. 

His  name  is  Nathaniel  Henderson  :  his  father,  who  was 
then  alive,  resided  in  this  settlement,  where  the  son  was  at 
this  time  on  a  visit. 

The  latter  had  grown  up  to  maturity,  without  having 
been  taught  to  read  or  write  ;  but  he  acquired  the  rudiments 
of  education,  and  arithmetic  also,  by  his  own  indefatigable 
industry. 

He  then  obtained  the  inferior  office  of  constable.  From 
that  he  was  promoted  to  the  office  of  under  sheriff.  After 
this,  he  procured  a  license  to  plead  as  a  lawyer,  in  the 
inferior  or  county  courts,  and  soon  after  in  the  superior  or 
highest  courts  of  judicature. 

Even  there,  where  oratory  is  brilliant  as  in  Westminstei 
31 


98  THEMUSET7M. 

Hall,  he  soon  became  eminent :  his  superior  genius  shone 
forth  with  great  splendor  and  universal  applause. 

He  was,  at  the  same  time,  a  man  of  pleasure,  gay,  face- 
tious and  pliant :  nor  did  his  amazing  talents,  and  general 
praise,  excite  against  him  a  single  enemy. 

In  short,  while  yet  a  very  young  man,  he  was  promoted 
from  the  bar  to  the  bench,  and  appointed  Associate  Chief 
Justice  of  the  province  of  North  Carolina. 

Even  in  this  elevated  station  his  reputation  continued  to 
increase. 

But  having  made  several  large  purchases,  and  having 
fallen  into  a  train  of  expense,  that  his  finances  could  not 
support,  his  extensive  genius  struck  out  a  bolder  track  to 
fortune  and  fame,  than  any  one  had  ever  attempted  before 
him. 

Under  pretence  of  viewing  some  back  lands,  he  privately 
went  out  to  the  Cherokee  nation  of  Indians,  and  for  an 
insignificant  consideration,  (only  ten  wagons,  loaded  with 
cheap  goods,  such  as  coarse  woollens,  trinkets,  some  fire- 
arms, and  spirituous  liquors,)  made  a  purchase  from  the 
chiefs  of  that  nation,  of  a  vast  tract  of  territory,  equal  in 
extent  to  a  kingdom  ;  and,  in  the  excellence  of  climate  and 
soil,  extent  of  its  rivers,  and  beauty  of  its  situations,  inferior 
to  none  in  the  world.  A  domain  of  no  less  than  100  miles 
square,  situated  on  the  back  or  interior  part  of  Virginia,  and 
of  North  and  South  Carolina ;  comprehending  the  rivers 
Kentucky,  Cherokee,  and  Ohio,  with  a  variety  of  inferior 
rivulets. 

This  transaction  he  kept  a  profound  secret,  till  he  had 
obtained  the  final  ratification  of  the  whole  nation  in  form. 
He  then  immediately  invited  settlers  from  all  the  provinces, 
offering  them  land  on  the  most  advantageous  terms,  and 
proposing  to  them  likewise  to  form  a  legislature  and  govern- 
ment of  their  own  ;  such  as  might  be  most  convenient  to 
their  particular  circumstances  of  settlement.  And  he  in- 
stantly vacated  his  seat  on  the  bench. 

Mr.  Henderson  by  this  means  established  a  new  colony, 
numerous  and  respectable,  of  which  he  himself  was  actually 
proprietor  as  well  as  governor,  and  indeed  legislator  also ; 
having  formed  a  code  of  laws,  particularly  adapted  to  their 
singular  situation  and  local  circumstances. 


THE    MUSEUM.  99 

In  vain  did  the  different  governors  fulminate  their  pro- 
clamations of  outlawry  against  him  and  his  people :  in 
vain  did  they  offer  rewards  for  apprehending  him.  and  for- 
bid every  person  from  joining  or  repairing  to  his  settlements ; 
under  the  authority  of  a  general  law,  that  renders  the 
formal  assent  of  the  governors  and  assemblies  of  the  differ- 
ent provinces  absolutely  necessary  to  validate  the  purchase 
of  any  lands  from  the  Indian  nations.  For  this  instance 
being  the  act  of  the  Indians  themselves,  they  defended  him 
and  his  colony,  being  in  fact  as  a  barrier  between  Virginia, 
as  well  as  North  and  South  Carolina,  and  him  ;  his  terri- 
tories lying  to  the  westward  of  their  nations. — Smith's 
Tour  in  the  United  States. 


CATHOLIC    SYSTEM    OF    DRAGOONING. 

THE  following  account  is  well  authenticated,  as  the 
method  of  dragooning  the  French  protestants,  practised  after 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  under  Louis  XIV. : 
the  account  is  here  given  without  exaggeration,  and  is 
taken  from  the  most  unquestionable  historians  of  the  day, 
and  may  be  relied  on  for  its  fidelity. 

The  troopers,  soldiers,  and  dragoons,  went  into  the  pro- 
testant's  houses,  where  they  marred  and  defaced  their  house- 
hold stuff,  broke  their  looking-glasses,  and  other  ornaments 
and  utensils,  let  their  wine  run  about  their  cellars,  and 
threw  about  their  corn  and  spoiled  it.  And  as  to  those  things 
which  they  could  not  destroy  in  this  manner,  such  as  furni- 
ture of  beds,  linen,  wearing  apparel,  plate,  &c.,  they  carried 
them  to  the  market  place,  and  sold  them  to  the  Jesuits,  and 
other  Roman  catholics ;  by  these  means,  the  protestants  in 
one  city  alone,  were,  in  four  or  five  days,  stripped  of  above 
a  million  of  money.  But  this  was  not  the  worst.  They 
turned  the  dining  rooms  of  gentlemen  into  stables  for  their 
horses,  and  treated  the  owners  of  the  houses  where  they 
were  quartered  with  the  highest  indignity  and  cruelty, 
lashing  them  about  from  one  to  another,  day  and  night, 
without  intermission,  not  suffering  them  to  eat  or  drink : 
and  when  they  began  to  sink  under  the  fatigue  and  pains 


100  THE    MUSEUM. 

they  had  undergone,  they  laid  them  on  a  bed,  and  when 
they  thought  them  somewhat  recovered,  made  them  rise, 
and  repeated  the  same  tortures,  and  when  they  saw  the 
blood  and  sweat  run  down  the  faces  and  bodies  of  the  vic- 
tims, they  sluiced  them  with  water,  and  putting  over  their 
heads  kettle  drums,  turned  upside  down,  they  made  a  con- 
tinual din  upon  them,  till  these  unhappy  creatures  lost  their 
senses.  When  one  party  of  these  tormentors  were  weary, 
they  were  relieved  by  another,  who  practised  the  same 
cruelties  with  fresh  vigor.  At  Negreplipe,  a  town  near 
Montauban,  they  hung  up  Isaac  Turin,  a  protestant  citizen 
of  that  place,  by  his  arm-pits,  and  tormented  him  a  whole 
night  by  pinching  and  tearing  off  his  rlesh  with  pincers. 
They  made  a  large  fire  round  a  boy  of  about  twelve  years 
old,  who  with  hands  and  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  cried  out 
to  God  for  succor,  and  when  the  youth  resolved  to  die, 
rather  than  renounce  his  religion,  they  snatched  him  from 
the  fire  just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  being  burned  to  death. 
In  several  places  the  soldiers  applied  red  hot  irons  to  the 
hands  and  feet  of  men  and  the  breasts  of  women.  At 
Nantes,  they  hung  up  several  women  and  maids  by  their 
feet,  and  by  their  arm-pits,  and  thus  exposed  them  without 
clothing  to  public  view.  They  bound  mothers  that  gave 
suck,  to  posts,  and  let  their  infants  lie  languishing  in  their 
sight  for  several  days  and  nights,  crying,  mourning,  and 
gasping  for  life.  Some  they  bound  before  a  great  fire,  and 
being  half  roasted,  let  them  go,  a  punishment  worse  than 
death.  Amidst  a  thousand  cries  of  the  most  hideous  de- 
scription, and  a  thousand  blasphemies,  they  hung  up  men 
and  women  by  the  hair :  and  some  by  their  feet  on  hooks 
in  chimneys,  and  smoked  them  with  wisps  of  wet  hay  till 
they  were  suffocated.  They  tied  some  under  the  arms 
with  ropes,  and  plunged  them  again  and  again  into  wells; 
they  bound  others  like  criminals,  put  them  to  the  torture, 
and  with  a  funnel  filled  them  with  wine  till  the  fumes  of  it 
took  away  their  reason,  when  they  made  them  say  they 
consented  to  be  catholics.  They  stripped  them  naked,  and 
stuck  them  with  pins  and  needles  from  head  to  foot.  They 
cut  and  slashed  them  with  knives ;  and  sometimes  with 
red  hot  pincers  took  hold  of  them  by  the  nose,  and  other 
parts  of  the  body,  and  dragged  them  about  the  rooms  till 


THE    MUSEUM.  101 

they  promised,  or  till  the  cries  of  these  miserable  wretches, 
calling  upon  God  for  help,  forced  them  to  let  them  go. 
They  beat  them  with  staves,  and  thus  bruised,  and  with 
broken  bones,  dragged  them  to  church,  where  their  forced 
presence  was  taken  for  abjuration.  In  some  places,  they 
tied  fathers  and  husbands  to  their  bed  posts,  and  violated 
their  wives  and  daughters  before  their  eyes.  They  blew 
up  men  and  women  with  bellows  till  they  burst  them.  If 
any,  to  escape  these  barbarities,  endeavored  to  save  them- 
selves by  flight,  they  pursued  them  into  the  fields,  where 
they  shot  at  them  like  wild  beasts,  and  prohibited  them 
from  departing  the  kingdom,  upon  pain  of  confiscation  of 
effects,  the  galleys,  the  lash,  and  perpetual  imprisonment, 
insomuch  that  the  prisons  of  the  sea-ports  were  crammed 
with  men,  women  and  children,  who  endeavored  to  save 
themselves  by  flight  from  their  dreadful  persecution  ;  with 
these  scenes  of  desolation  and  horror,  the  popish  clergy 
feasted  (heir  eyes,  and  made  only  a  matter  of  laughter  and 
sport  of  them. 

A  young  woman  being  brought  before  the  council,  upon 
refusing  to  abjure  her  religion,  was  ordered  to  prison. 
There  they  shaved  her  head,  singed  off  the  hair  from  other 
parts  of  her  body,  and  having  stripped  her  of  her  clothes, 
led  her  naked  through  the  city,  whence  many  a  blow  was 
given  her,  and  stones  flung  at  her ;  then  they  set  her  up  to 
the  neck  in  a  tub  of  water,  where,  after  she  had  been  for  a 
while,  they  took  her  out,  and  put  on  her  shift  soaked  in 
wine,  which,  as  it  dried,  and  stuck  to  her  sore  and  bruised 
body,  they  snatched  off  again,  and  then  had  another  ready, 
dipped  in  wine,  to  clap  on  her.  This  they  repeated  six 
times,  hereby  making  her  body  exceedingly  raw  and  sore ; 
when  all  these  cruelties  could  not  shake  her  constancy, 
they  fastened  her  by  the  feet  to  a  kind  of  gibbet,  and  let  her 
hang  in  that  posture,  with  her  head  downwards,  till  she 
expired. 

Some  of  these  missionary  dragoons  being  quartered  in 
the  house  of  a  protestant,  one  day,  having  drank  plentifully 
of  his  wine,  and  broken  their  glasses  at  every  health,  they 
filled  the  floor  with  the  fragments,  and  by  often  walking 
over  them,  reduced  them  to  very  small  pieces.  This  done, 
in  the  insolence  of  their  mirth,  they  resolved  on  a  dance, 

31* 


102  THE    MUSEUM. 

and  told  their  protestant  host,  that  he  must  be  one  of  their 
company,  but  as  he  would  not  be  of  their  religion,  he  must 
dance  quite  barefoot;  and  thus,  insisting  upon  it,  they  drove 
him  about  the  room,  treading  on  the  sharp  points  of  the 
broken  glasses.  When  he  was  no  longer  able  to  stand, 
they  laid  him  on  a  bed,  and  in  a  short  time,  stripped  him 
naked,  and  rolled  him  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  till  every  part  of  his  body  was  full  of  the  fragments 
of  glass.  After  this,  they  dragged  him  to  his  bed,  and 
having  sent  for  a  surgeon,  obliged  him  to  cut  out  the  pieces 
of  glass  from  his  body  with  his  instruments,  and  thereby 
putting  him  to  the  most  exquisite  and  horrible  pains  that 
can  possibly  be  conceived.  These  were  the  methods  used 
by  the  most  Christian  king's  apostolic  dragoons,  to  convert 
his  heretical  subjects  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  ! 


JOHN    GUNN,    THE    FREEBOOTER. 

TOWARDS  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  the  county 
of  Inverness  was  infected  with  a  band  of  Catharans,  or 
robbers,  commanded  by  one  John  Gunn,  who  levied  con- 
tributions in  every  quarter,  and  came  under  the  walls  of  the 
city,  to  bid  defiance  to  an  English  garrison  which  defended 
the  castle.  An  officer  who  went  to  Inverness,  bearing  the 
pay  of  the  troop,  and  escorted  by  a  feeble  detachment,  was 
obliged  to  pass  the  night  at  an  inn,  thirty  miles  from  the 
city.  In  the  evening,  he  saw  a  man  of  good  figure  enter, 
wearing  the  Scottish  costume,  and  as  there  was  only  one 
room  in  the  inn,  the  Englishman  invited  the  stranger  to 
partake  of  his  supper,  which  the  latter  reluctantly  accepted. 
The  officer  judging  by  his  conversation  that  the  stranger 
was  perfectly  acquained  with  the  defiles  and  by-paths 
throughout  the  country,  begged  him  to  accompany  him  the 
next  morning,  made  him  acquainted  with  the  purport  of 
his  journey,  and  his  fears  of  falling,  together  with  the 
depot  which  was  confided  to  him,  into  the  hands  of  the 
celebrated  John  Gunn.  The  Highlander,  after  a  little 
hesitation,  promised  to  be  his  guide :  they  departed  on  the 
following  day,  and  in  crossing  a  solitary  and  barren  glen, 


THE    MUSEUM.  103 

the  conversation  again  turned  on  the  robberies  of  John 
Gunn.  "  Would  you  like  to  see  him  ?"  said  the  guide,  and 
immediately  gave  a  whistle,  which  was  re-echoed  by  the 
rocks ;  in  a  few  moments  the  officer  and  his  detachment 
were  surrounded  by  a  body  of  Highlanders,  armed  from 
head  to  foot,  and  sufficiently  numerous  to  render  every 
effort  of  resistance  fruitless.  "  Stranger,"  said  the  guide, 
"I  am  that  same  John  Gunn  whom  you  are  afraid  of,  and 
not  without  reason,  for  1  came  yesterday  evening  into  your 
inn  to  discover  the  route  you  meant  to  take,  in  order  to 
carry  away  your  military  chest ;  but  I  am  incapable  of 
betraying  the  confidence  which  you  have  put  in  me,  and 
having  now  proved  to  you  that  you  are  in  my  power,  I 
shall  send  you  on  your  way  without  loss  or  damage." 
After  giving  him  the  necessary  directions  for  the  journey, 
John  Gunn  disappeared  with  his  troops  as  suddenly  as 
they  had  arrived. 


THE    MURDEROUS   BARBER. 

IN  the  Rue  de  la  Parpe,  at  Paris,  which  is  a  long  dismal 
ancient  street  in  the  Fauxbourg  of  St.  Marcell,  is  a  space  or 
gap  in  the  line  of  buildings,  upon  which  formerly  stood  two 
dwelling-houses,  instead  of  which  now  stands  a  melan- 
choly memorial,  signifying,  that  upon  this  spot  no  human 
habitation  shall  ever  be  erected,no  human  being  ever  must 
reside  ! 

Curiosity  will  of  course  be  greatly  excited  to  ascertain 
what  it  was  that  rendered  this  devoted  spot  so  obnoxious  to 
humanity,  and  yet  so  interesting  to  history. 

Two  attached  and  opulent  neighbors,  residing  in  some 
province,  not  remote  from  the  French  capital,  having  occa- 
sion to  go  to  town  on  certain  money  transactions,  agreed  to 
travel  thence  and  to  return  together,  which  was  to  be  done 
with  as  much  expedition  as  possible.  They  were,  I  believe, 
on  foot,  a  very  common  way  even  at  present,  for  persons  of 
much  respectability  to  travel  in  France,  and  were  attended, 
as  most  pedestrians  are,  by  a.  faithful  dog. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  they  stepped 


104  THE    MUSEUM. 

into  a  shop  of  the  peruquier  to  be  shaved,  before  they  would 
proceed  on  their  business,  or  enter  into  the  most  fashionable 
streets.  So  limited  was  their  time,  and  so  peremptory  was 
their  return,  that  ihe  first  man  who  was  shaved,  proposed  to 
his  companion  that  while  he  was  undergoing  the  operation 
of  the  razor,  he  who  was  already  shorn  would  run  to  execute 
a  small  commission  in  the  neighborhood,  promising  that  he 
would  be  back  before  the  other  was  ready  to  move.  For 
this  purpose  he  left  the  shop  of  the  barber. 

On  returning,  to  his  great  surprise  and  vexation,  he  was 
informed  that  his  friend  was  gone,  but  as  the  dog,  which 
was  the  dog  of  the  absentee,  was  sitting  outside  the  door, 
the  other  presumed  he  was  only  gone  out  for  a  moment, 
perhaps  in  pursuit  of  him ;  so  expecting  him  back  every 
moment,  he  chatted  to  the  barber  whilst  he  watched  his 
return. 

Such  a  considerable  time  elapsed,  that  the  stranger  now 
became  quite  impatient;  he  went  in  and  out,  up  and  down 
the  street ;  still  the  dog  remained  at  the  door.  "  Did  he 
leave  no  message ;"  "  No ;"  all  the  barber  knew  was,  "  that 
when  he  was  shaved  .he,  went  away."  "  It  was  very  odd." 

The  dog  remaining  stationed  at  the  door,  was  to  the  tra- 
veller conclusive  evidence  that  his  master  was  not  far  off; 
he  went  in  and  out,  and  up  and  down  the  street  again.  Still 
no  sign  of  him  whatever. 

Impatience  now  became  alarm  ;  alarm  became  sympa- 
thetic. The  poor  animal  exhibited  marks  of  restlessness  in 
yelps  and  in  howlings,  which  so  affected  the  sensibility  oi 
the  stranger,  that  he  threw  out  some  insinuations  not  much 
to  the  credit  of  "  Monsieur  ;"  an  altercation  ensued,  and  the 
traveller  was  indignantly  ordered  by  the  peruquier  to  quit 
his  boutique. 

Upon  quitting  the  shop  he  found  it  impossible  to  remove 
the  dog  from  the  door.  No  whistling,  no  calling,  no  patting 
would  do ;  stir  he  would  not. 

In  his  agony,  this  afflicted  man  raised  a  crowd  about  the 
door,  to  whom  he  told  his  lamentable  story.  The  dog  be- 
came an  object  of  universal  interest,  and  of  close  attention. 
He  shivered  and  he  howled,  but  no  seduction,  no  caressing, 
no  experiment,  could  make  him  desert  his  post. 

By  some  of  the  populace,  it  was  proposed  to  send  for  the 


THE    MUSEUM.  105 

police,  by  others  was  proposed  a  remedy  more  summary, 
namely,  to  force  in  and  search  the  house,  which  was  im- 
mediately done.  The  crowd  burst  in,  every  apartment  was 
searched ;  was  searched  in  vain.  There  was  no  trace 
whatever  of  the  countryman. 

During  this  investigation,  the  dog  still  remained  sentinel 
at  the  shop  door,  which  was  bolted  within  to  keep  out  the 
crowd  which  was  immense  on  the  outside. 

After  fruitless  search  and  much  altercation,  the  barber,  who 
had  prevailed  upon  those  who  had  forced  in  to  quit  his  house, 
came  to  the  door,  and  was  haranguing  the  populace,  declar- 
ing most  solemnly  his  innocence,  when  the  dog  suddenly 
sprang  upon  him,  and  flew  at  his  throat  with  such  terrific  ex- 
asperation, that  his  victim  fainted,  and  was  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  rescued  from  being  torn  to  pieces  The  dog  seemed 
in  a  state  of  intellectual  agony  and  fury. 

It  was  now  proposed  to  give  the  animal  his  way,  to  see 
what  course  he  would  pursue.  The  moment  he  was  let  loose 
he  flew  through  the  shop,  darted  down  stairs  into  a  dark  cel- 
lar, where  he  set  up  the  most  dismal  lamentation. 

Lights  being  procured,  an  aperture  was  discovered  in  the 
wall  communicating  to  the  next  house  which  was  immedi- 
ately surrounded,  and  in  the  cellar  whereof  was  found  the 
body  of  the  unfortunate  man  who  had  been  missing.  The 
person  who  kept  this  shop  was  a  pattissiere  or  pastry-cook. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  those  miscreants  were  brought  to 
trial  and  executed.  The  facts  that  appeared  upon  the  trial, 
and  afterwards  upon  confession,  were  these : 

Those  incautious  travellers,  whilst  in  the  shop  of  this  fiend, 
unhappily  talked  of  the  money  they  had  about  them,  and  the 
wretch  who  was  a  robber  and  murderer  by  profession,  as  soon 
as  the  one  turned  his  back,  drew  his  razor  across  the  throat 
of  the  other  and  plundered  him. 

The  remainder  of  the  story  is  almost  too  horrible  for 
human  ears,  but  it  is  not  upon  that  account  the  less 
credible. 

The  pastry  cook,  whose  shop  was  so  remarkable  for 
savory  patties  that  they  were  sent  for  to  the  "  Rue  de  la 
Pfarpe"  from  the  most  distant  parts  of  Paris,  was  the 
partner  of  this  peruquier,  and  those  murdered  by  the  razor 
of  the  one,  were  concealed  by  the  knife  of  the  other,  in 


106  THE    MUSEUM. 

those  identical  patties ;  by  which,  independently  of  hi* 
partnership  in  those  frequent  robberies,  he  had  made  a 
fortune. 

The  case  was  of  so  terrific  a  nature,  that  it  was  made 
part  of  the  sentence  of  the  law,  that,  besides  the  execution 
of  these  monsters  on  the  rack,  the  house  in  which  they 
perpetrated  their  infernal  deeds,  should  be  pulled  down,  and 
that  the  spot  on  which  they  stood  should  be  marked  out  to 
posterity  with  horror  and  execration. 


THE    INEXORABLE    JUDGE. 

COSMO,  first  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  had  three  sons, 
besides  Francisco  de  Medici,  who  succeeded  him.  Giovanni, 
the  second,  was  Archbishop  of  Pisa,  and  a  cardinal,  when 
he  was  still  a  child,  Pius  the  Fourth,  having  resigned  to 
him  his  own  hat.  The  youth  of  this  prince,  who  was  his 
father's  favorite,  promised  the  most  dazzling  talents,  but  a 
premature  and  tragical  death,  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  his 
age,  destroyed  at  once  the  flattering  illusion.  In  a  tour  on 
the  coasts  of  Tuscany,  the  grand  duke  had  been  attended 
also  by  his  third  son  Garzia,  and  the  two  brothers  on  a 
hunting  party  had  been  led  by  accident,  or  by  their  sport, 
to  a  distance  from  their  attendants,  when  a  dispute  arose 
between  them.  From  words  they  proceeded  to  blows,  and 
Garzia,  who  was  of  a  cruel  and  ferocious  disposition,  gave 
Giovanni  a  wound  with  his  dagger,  of  which  he  died  in- 
stantly upon  the  place. 

The  dreadful  fray  had  passed  in  secret  without  a  single 
witness,  and  Garzia,  with  the  greatest  indifference  and  com- 
posure, returned  to  his  companions.  When  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  day  was  over,  Giovanni  did  not  make  his 
appearance,  and  his  domestics  spread  themselves  through 
the  forest  in  search  of  him.  His  horse  was  at  first  found, 
and  afterwards  the  cardinal's  dead  body,  stiff  and  cold, 
within  the  bushes.  The  melancholy  news  was  imme- 
diately conveyed  to  Cosmo,  who  was  then  at  Grosseto,  and 
though  wrung  with  anguish  at  the  fatal  accident,  he  had 
the  prudence  to  order  it  to  be  kept  secret,  and  the  body  to 


THE    MTTSETTM.  107 

be  brought  in  the  night  into  the  town,  and  conveyed  to  the 
room  adjoining  to  his  own.  By  his  orders  also  a  report  was 
industriously  circulated  that  Garzia  had  overheated  himself 
in  the  chase,  and  had  been  seized  with  a  violent  fever. 
Having  taken  these  precautions,  he  directed  his  attendants 
to  retire,  and  Garzia  to  follow  him  to  the  room,  in  which 
the  dead  body  of  his  brother  had  been  ordered  to  be  laid. 
He  then  strictly  examined  Garzia,  who,  it  is  said,  with 
great  audacity,  positively  denied  the  fact,  on  which  the  grand 
duke  led  him  to  the  dead  body  and  uncovered  it.  Many 
writers  have  related  the  circumstances  of  the  blood  bubbling 
out  of  Giovanni's  wounds  on  his  murderer's  approach,  and 
others  have  given  several  instances  of  a  supposed  similar 
appearance. 

Whether  the  blood  appeared  to  flow  from  Giovanni's 
wounds,  or  was  only  visible  on  his  dress,  which  had  been 
naturally  stained  with  it,  "  behold,"  said  the  grand  duke,  to 
his  surviving  son,  fixing  with  tranquil  fury  his  eyes  upon 
him,  "  behold  thy  brother's  blood,  which  cries  for  vengeance 
against  thee,  and  expects  it  from  Divine  justice  by  my 
hand."  A  mortal  paleness  spread  over  Garzia's  counte- 
nance— he  trembled — his  whole  frame  shook — he  acknow- 
ledged his  guilt,  but  endeavored  to  exculpate  himself  by 
saying  the  cardinal  occasioned  the  dispute,  and  that  he 
had  only  deprived  him  of  his  life  in  defence  of  his  own. 
"How,"  replied  Cosmo,  who  perfectly  knew  Giovanni's 
sweet  and  amiable  temper  :  "  how  darest  thou  in  excuse  of 
thy  own  detestable  passions  pretend  to  blacken  the  inno- 
cence of  the  victim  thou  hast  already  slaughtered !" 
Taking  the  fatal  dagger,  which  was  then  hanging  at 
Garzia's  side,  and  holding  him  by  the  arm, ';  I  am  deter- 
mined," he  added,  "  to  put  to  death  such  a  domestic  mon- 
ster." He  then  fell  upon  his  knees,  prayed  for  the  appro- 
bation of  heaven  upon  the  action,  and  for  its  pardon  to  a 
criminal  son,  which  the  most  unfortunate  of  fathers  im- 
plored for  him — rose  up — embraced  Garzia  in  his  paternal 
arms — thrust  him  to  a  little  distance — turned  his  face,  and 
plunged  the  dagger  in  his  bosorn  !  Severity,  perhaps  sage 
and  prudent,  if  the  grand  duke  was  led  to  it  by  the  mere 
sense  of  justice,  but  still  frightful,  horrible  and  unexampled. 

From  an  apprehension  that  such  a  tragical  event  might 


108  THE    MTTSEtTM. 

shake  the  foundations  of  a  recent  sovereignty,  the  wretched 
father,  as  an  able  and  judicious  prince,  buried  in  silence  a 
history  which  was  known  only  to  a  few  persons.  The 
deaths  of  the  two  brothers  were  concealed  for  some  days, 
and  afterward  it  was  publicly  announced  that  they  had 
been  cut  off  by  a  contagious  disorder.  The  intemperance 
of  the  air  had  occasioned  many  epidemical  complaints, 
which  had  proved  fatal  during  the  summer,  to  great  num- 
bers of  people,  and  it  served  to  strengthen  the  account  that 
Cosmo  propagated ;  but  the  grand  duchess  did  not  long 
survive  the  horrible  catastrophe,  and  died  of  grief.  The 
most  magnificent  obsequies  were  bestowed  on  both  the  bro- 
thers at  Florence,  and  to  conceal  more  effectually  what  was 
wished  to  be  buried  in  everlasting  oblivion,  a  funeral 
oration  was  also  pronounced  on  Garzia,  and  extraordinary 
praises  were  purposely  lavished  on  his  memory. — Mem.  of 
the  House  of  Medici. 


MOURAT    BEY. 

A  PEASANT,  near  Damascus,  in  year  that  locusts  cover- 
ed the  plains  of  Syria,  to  supply  the  urgent  necessities  of  his 
family,  was  daily  obliged  to  sell  a  part  of  his  cattle.  This 
resource  was  very  soon  exhausted  ;  and  the  unhappy  father, 
borne  by  the  present  calamity,  went  to  the  town  to  sell  his 
implements  of  labor.  Whilst  he  was  cheapening  some  corn, 
newly  arrived  from  Damietta,  he  heard  of  the  successes  of 
Mourat  Bey,  who,  after  vanquishing  his  enemies,  had  en- 
tered Grand  Cairo  in  triumph.  They  painted  the  size, 
the  character,  the  origin  of  this  warrior.  They  related  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  arisen  from  a  state  of  slavery  to  his 
present  greatness.  The  astonished  countryman  immediate- 
ly knew  him  to  be  one  of  his  sons,  carried  off  from  him  at 
eleven  years  old.  He  lost  no  time  in  conveying  to  his  family 
the  provisions  he  had  purchased,  recounted  what  he  had 
learnt,  and  determined  to  set  out  for  Egypt.  His  wife  and 
children  bathed  him  with  their  tears,  offering  up  their  vows 
for  his  safe  return.  He  went  to  the  port  of  Alexandretta, 
where  he  embarked,  and  landed  at  Damietta,  But,  a  son 


THE    MTJSETTM.  109 

who  had  quitted  the  religion  of  his  forefathers,  to  embrace 
Mahometanism,  and  who  saw  himself  encircled  with  all  the 
splendor  of  the  most  brilliant  fortune,  was  it  likely  that  he 
would  acknowledge  him?  This  idea  hung  heavy  on  his 
heart.  On  the  other  hand,  the  desire  of  rescuing  his  family 
from  the  horrors  of  famine,  the  hopes  of  recovering  a  child, 
whose  loss  he  had  long  bewailed,  supported  his  courage, 
and  animated  him  to  continue  his  journey.  He  entered  the 
capital,  and  repaired  to  the  palace  of  Mourat  Bey.  He  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  prince's  attendants,  and  desired  per- 
mission to  speak  with  him.  He  urged,  he  ardently  solicited, 
an  audience  :  his  dress,  and  his  whole  appearance,  which  be- 
spoke poverty  and  misfortune,  were  not  calculated  to  obtain 
him  what  he  sought  for :  but  his  great  age,  that  age  so  re- 
spected in  the  East,  pleaded  in  his  favor.  One  of  the  officers 
informed  Mourat  Bey,  that  a  wretched  old  man  desired  to 
speak  with  him.  "  Let  him  enter,"  said  he.  The  peasant 
advanced  with  trembling  steps  on  the  rich  carpet  which  cov- 
ered the  hall  of  the  divan,  and  approached  the  Bey,  who 
was  reposing  on  a  sofa  embroidered  with  silk  and  gold  The 
various  feelings  which  oppressed  his  mind,  deprived  him  of 
utterance.  Recollecting  at  length  the  child  that  had  been 
stolen  from  him,  and  the  voice  of  nature  getting  the  better 
of  his  fears,  he  threw  himself  at  his  feet,  and  embracing  his 
knees,  he  cried  out :  "  You  are  my  child."  The  Bey  raised 
him  up,  endeavored  to  recollect  him,  and  on  a  further  expla- 
nation finding  him  to  be  his  father,  he  seated  him  by  his  side, 
and  loaded  him  with  caresses.  After  the  tenderest  effusions 
of  the  heart,  the  old  man  painted  to  him  the  deplorable  situ- 
ation in  which  he  had  left  his  mother  and  his  brethren. 
The  prince  proposed  to  him  to  send  for  them  to  Egypt,  and 
to  make  them  partake  of  his  riches  and  his  power,  provided 
they  would  embrace  Mahometanism.  The  generous  Chris- 
tian had  foreseen  this  proposal,  and  fearing  lest  young  people 
might  have  been  dazzled  with  it,  had  not  suffered  one  of  his 
children  to  accompany  him.  He  steadfastly  rejected,  there- 
fore, this  offer  of  his  son,  and  had  even  the  courage  to  re- 
monstrate with  him  on  his  change  of  religion.  Mourat  Bey, 
seeing  that  his  father  remained  inflexible,  and  that  the  dis- 
tress his  family  was  in,  demanded  immediate  succor,  ordered 
him  a  large  sum  of  money,  and  sent  him  back  into  Syria  with 

32 


110  THE    MTTSEtTM. 

a  small  vessel  laden  with  corn.  The  happy  countryman 
returned  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  plains  of  Damascus.  His 
arrival  banished  misery  and  tears  from  his  rural  dwelling, 
and  restored  joy,  comfort  and  happiness. 


WAT  TYLER'S  REBELLION. 

IN  the  year  1381,  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  the  impo- 
sition of  three  groats  a  head,  had  been  farmed  out  to  tax- 
gatherers  in  each  county,  who  levied  the  money  with  rigor 
on  the  English  people.  The  first  disorder  arose  from  a 
blacksmith  in  a  village  in  Essex.  The  tax-gatherers  came 
to  this  man's  shop,  while  he  was  at  work,  and  demanded 
payment  for  his  daughter,  whom  he  asserted  to  be  below 
the  age  assigned  by  the  statute.  One  of  these  fellows,  of- 
fering to  produce  a  very  indecent  proof  to  the  contrary,  laid 
hold  of  the  maid,  which  the  father  resenting,  immediately, 
with  his  hammer,  knocked  out  the  ruffian's  brains.  The 
by-standers,  applauding  the  action,  exclaimed,  that  it  was 
full  time  for  the  people  to  take  vengeance  of  their  tyrants, 
and  to  vindicate  their  native  liberty.  They  immediately 
flew  to  arms  ;  the  whole  neighborhood  joined  in  the  sedi- 
tion :  the  flame  spread  in  an  instant  over  the  whole  coun- 
try, and  soon  propagated  itself  into  that  of  Kent,  Hertford, 
Surry,  Suffolk,  Norfolk,  Cambridge,  and  Lincoln.  Before 
the  government  had  the  least  warning  of  the  danger,  the 
disorder  had  risen  beyond  control  or  opposition.  The 
populace  threw  off  all  regard  to  their  former  masters ;  and 
being  headed  by  the  most  audacious  of  their  associates, 
(who  assumed  the  feigned  names  of  Wat  Tyler,  Jack  Straw, 
Hob  Carter,  and  Tom  Millar,)  they  committed,  every  where, 
the  most  outrageous  violence  on  such  of  the  nobility  and 
gentry  as  had  the  misfortune  to  fall  into  their  hands. 

The  insurgents,  amounting  to  100,01)0  men,  assembled  at 
Blackheath,  under  their  leaders,  Tyler  and  Straw.  They 
sent  a  message  to  the  king,  who  had  taken  shelter  in  the 
Tower,  and  desired  a  conference  with  him.  Richard  sailed 
down  the  river  in  his  barge  ;  but  on  approaching  the  shore, 
he  saw  such  symptoms  of  tumult,  that  he  put  back  and  re- 


WAT    TYLERS    REBELLION, 
Set  page  111,  vol.  II. 


THE    MUSETTM  .  Ill 

turned  to  his  fortress.  Favored  by  the  city  rabble,  they  had 
now  broke  into  London,  had  burned  the  duke  of  Lan- 
caster's palace  of  the  Savoy,  cut  off  the  heads  of  such  gen- 
tlemen as  they  laid  hold  of,  and  pillaged  the  merchants. 
The  king?  finding  no  defence  in  the  Tower,  was  obliged 
to  go  out  to  them,  and  ask  their  demands.  They  made 
various  requisitions,  which  were  complied  with,  and  they 
immediately  dispersed. 

During  this  transaction,  however,  another  body  of  the 
rebels  had  broke  into  the  Tower,  murdered  several  persons 
of  distinction,  and  continued  their  ravages  in  the  city.  The 
king,  passing  along  Smithfield,  very  slightly  guarded,  met 
with  Wat.  Tyler,  at  the  head  of  the  rioters,  and  entered  into 
conference  with  him.  Tyler  ordered  his  companions  to  re- 
tire till  he  should  give  them  a  signal,  and  afterwards  to  mur- 
der all  the  company,  except  the  king  himself,  whom  they 
were  to  detain  prisoner.  Tyler's  demands  were  made  with 
such  insolence  and  extravagance,  that  Walworth,  the  mayor 
of  London,  who  attended  the  king,  not  able  longer  to  bear 
with  him,  drew  his  sword,  and  struck  him  so  violent  a  blow 
as  brought  him  to  the  ground,  where  he  was  instantly  des- 
patched by  others  of  the  king's  train.  The  mutineers  pre- 
pared for  revenge,  when  the  king  himself,  with  his  party, 
had  undoubtedly  perished  on  the  spot,  had  it  not  been  for 
an  extraordinary  presence  of  mind,  which  Richard,  though 
not  sixteen  years  of  age,  discovered  on  this  occasion.  He 
advanced  alone  towards  the  enraged  multitude,  and  cried 
out,  "  What,  rny  people,  are  you  angry  that  you  have  lost 
your  leader  ?  I  am  your  king,  and  I  will  be  your  leader." 
The  populace,  overawed,  implicitly  followed  him.  He 
led  them  into  the  fields,  and  peaceably  dismissed  them. 
Soon  after.  Richard  took  the  field  at  the  head  of  40,0(10 
men  ;  all  the  other  rebels  soon  submitted,  and  the  ringlead- 
ers were  severely  punished  for  the  late  disorders. 


AMERICAN    HERMITESS. 


The  following  account  of  a  singular  character,  residing 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Salem,  in  Duchess  County,  in  the 


112  THE    MUSEUM. 

State  of  New  York,  in  1804.  is  from  the  Political  Barom- 
eter, printed  at  Poughkeepsie : 

Sarah  Bishop  is  a  person  of  about  fifty  years  of  age. 
About  thirty  years  ago,  she  was  a  lady  of  considerable 
beauty,  with  a  competent  share  of  mental  endowments  and 
education  ;  she  was  possessed  of  a  handsome  fortune,  but 
was  of  a  tender  and  delicate  constitution  ;  she  enjoyed  but 
a  low  degree  of  health,  and  could  be  hardly  comfortable 
without  constant  recourse  to  medicine  and  careful  attend- 
ance :  and  was  often  heard  to  say,  that  she  dreaded  no  ani- 
mal on  earth  but  man.  Disgusted  with  men,  and  conse- 
quently with  the  world,  about  twenty-three  years  ago  she 
withdrew  herself  from  all  human  society,  and  in  the  bloom 
of  life,  resorted  to  the  mountains  which  divide  Salem  from 
North  Salem,  near  New  York,  where  she  spent  her  days  in 
a  cave,  or  rather  cleft  of  the  rock. 

Yesterday  I  went  in  the  company  of  two  captain  Smiths 
of  this  town  (New  York)  to  the  mountain,  to  visit  the  her- 
mitage. As  you  pass  the  southern  and  elevated  ridge  of  the 
mountain,  and  begin  to  descend  the  southern  steep,  you  meet 
with  a  perpendicular  descent  of  a  rock,  in  the  front  of  which 
is  this  cave.  At  the  foot  of  this  rock  is  a  gentle  descent  of  rich 
and  fertile  ground,  extending  about  ten  rods,  when  it  instant- 
ly forms  a  frightful  precipice,  descending  half  a  mile  to  the 
pond  called  Long  Pond.  In  the  front  of  the  rock,  on  the 
north,  where  the  cave  is,  and  level  with  the  ground,  there 
appears  a  large  frustum  of  the  rock,  of  a  double  fathom  in 
size,  thrown  out  by  some  unknown  convulsion  of  nature, 
and  lying  in  the  front  of  the  cavity  from  which  it  was  rent, 
partly  enclosing  the  mouth,  and  forming  a  room  :  the  rock 
is  left  entire  above,  and  forms  the  roof  of  this  humble  man- 
sion. This  cavity  is  the  habitation  of  the  hermitess,  in  which 
she  has  passed  the  best  of  her  years,  excluded  from  all  so- 
ciety ;  she  keeps  no  domestic  animal,  not  even  fowl,  cat,  or 
dog.  Her  little  plantation,  consisting  of  half  an  acre,  is 
cleared  of  its  wood,  and  reduced  to  grass,  where  she  has 
raised  a  few  peach  trees,  and  yearly  plants  a  few  hills  oi 
beans,  cucumbers,  and  potatoes ;  the  whole  is  surrounded 
with  a  luxuriant  grape  vine,  which  overspreads  the  sur- 
rounding wood,  and  is  very  productive.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  this  little  tenement,  is  a  fine  fountain  of  excellent  water; 


THE    MUSEUM.  113 

at  this  fountain  we  found  the  wonderful  woman,  whose  ap- 
pearance it  is  a  little  difficult  to  describe :  indeed,  like  nature 
in  its  first  state,  she  was  without  form.  Her  dress  appeared 
little  else  than  one  confused  and  shapeless  mass  of  rags, 
patched  together  without  any  order,  which  obscured  all  hu- 
man shape,  excepting  her  head,  which  was  clothed  with  a 
luxuriaucy  of  lank  gray  hair  depending  on  every  side,  as 
time  had  formed  it,  without  any  covering  or  ornament.  When 
she  discovered  our  approach,  she  exhibited  the  appearance 
of  a  wild  and  timid  animal ;  she  started  and  hastened  to  her 
cave,  which  she  entered,  and  barricaded  the  entrance  with 
old  shells,  pulled  from  the  decayed  trees.  We  approached 
this  humble  habitation,  and  after  some  conversation  with  its 
inmate,  obtained  liberty  to  remove  the  palisadoes  and  look 
in  ;  for  we  were  riot  able  to  enter,  the  room  being  only  suf- 
ficient to  accommodate  one  person.  We  saw  no  utensil 
either  for  labor  or  cookery,  save  an  old  pewter  basin  and  a 
gourd  shell ;  no  bed  but  the  solid  rock,  unless  it  was  a  few 
old  rags,  scattered  here  and  there ;  no  bed  clothes  of  any 
kind,  nor  the  least  appearance  of  food  or  fire.  She  had, 
indeed,  a  place  in  one  corner  of  the  cell,  where  a  fire  had 
at  some  time  been  kindled,  but  it  did  not  appear  that  there 
had  been  one  for  some  months.  To  confirm  this  a  gen- 
tleman says  he  passed  her  cell  five  or  six  days  after  the 
great  fall  of  snow  in  the  beginning  of  March,  that  she  had 
no  fire  then,  and  had  not  been  out  of  her  cave  since  the 
snow  had  fallen.  How  she  subsists  during  the  severe  sea- 
son, is  yet  a  mystery  ;  she  says  she  eats  but  little  flesh  of  any 
kind  ;  in  the  summer  she  lives  on  berries,  nuts,  and  roots. 
We  conversed  with  her  some  time,  found  her  to  be  of  a  sound 
mind,  a  religious  turn  of  thought,  and  entirely  happy  in  her 
situation  ;  of  this  she  has  given  repeated  proofs  by  refusing 
to  quit  this  dreary  abode.  She  keeps  a  bible  with  her,  and 
says  she  takes  much  satisfaction,  and  spends  much  time  in 
reading  it. 


32» 


114  THE    MUSEUM. 


TRIAL    BY    BATTLE    IN    THE    EARLY    AGES. 

GUNHILDA,  sister  to  Hardicanute,  king  of  England,  was 
celebrated  for  beauty  and  sanctity  of  manners ;  she  had 
been  courted  in  her  father's  life  time  by  the  Emperor  Henry 
III.  The  lustre  of  this  match  gilded  all  the  woes  which 
others  easily  foresaw  must  arise  in  matrimony  with  a  per- 
son of  this  prince's  disposition.  The  humbler  crowds  ot 
admirers,  because  subjects,  though  they  were  of  the  first 
rank,  were  disdained  ;  and  the  friends  of  Gunhilda  thought 
she  could  not  be  miserable  if  she  was  great.  The  match, 
therefore,  was  concluded  between  her  and  the  Emperor ; 
while  Hardicanule,  conceiving  he  could  not  have  a  fairer 
opportunity  of  displaying  his  magnificence,  ransacked  all 
nature  and  art  to  celebrate  the  nuptials.  This  was  done 
with  such  exquisite  luxury,  with  such  memorable  pro- 
fusion, that  it  got  even  into  the  songs  of  the  bards  of  those 
days ;  and  was  transmitted,  by  the  rude  minstrels  of  the 
times,  in  lays  which  survived  to  the  age  of  Westminster  the 
historian.  At  last,  the  effusion  of  pomp  and  luxury  being 
over,  the  fair  bride  was  sent  to  her  consort.  But  Henry 
took  in  such  draughts  of  love  as  intoxicated  his  brain ; 
while  jealousy,  prompted  by  conscious  demerits,  whispered 
him,  that  so  many  charms  were  not  made  for  him  alone. 
Suspicion  was  strengthened  by  the  adulation  of  those  who 
found  it  more  easy  to  sooth,  than  to  combat,  the  preposses- 
sions of  princes  ;  and,  at  last,  imagination  forming  circum- 
stances, Gunhilda  was  accused  of  adultery.  Such  accusa- 
tions in  those  days  were  too  arbitrary  and  too  delicate  to  be 
handled  in  the  common  way  of  evidence  and  defence;  to 
be  suspected  was  to  be  guilty ;  and  nothing  could  wipe  off 
that  guilt,  but  the  precarious  success  of  single  combat  be- 
tween two  champions,  one  for  the  accuser,  and  one  for  the 
accused.  The  fair  Gunhilda  had,  in  all  her  numerous 
train,  only  one  Englishman  ;  his  name,  from  his  diminutive 
size,  was  Mimecan  ;  he  had  been  bred  about  her  own  per- 
son, and  was  an  ocular  witness  to  her  purity  of  conver- 
sation. 

The  day  of  combat  being  come,  a  gigantic  champion  for 
the  accusation  stepped  into  the  lists,  and  swaggering  about 


THE    MUSEUM  115 

like  another  Goliah,  threw  out  his  defiances  against  the 
power  of  living  beauty.  The  wretched  Gunhilda  in  vain 
cast  round  her  fair  eyes,  and  unable  to  read,  in  the  coun- 
tenance of  any  person  present,  one  sentiment  of  manly 
compassion  for  her  fate,  was  just  fixing  them  upon  the 
prospect  of  death  and  infamy,  when  the  generous  English- 
man stepped  forth,  as  the  champion  of  her  honor.  He  was 
her  own  page ;  his  years  too  tender  to  make  it  suspicious 
that  he  had  any  motive  for  danger,  besides  the  vindication 
of  injured  innocence;  and  his  person  too  diminutive  for 
Gunhilda  ever  to  entertain  a  thought  of  him  for  a  cham- 
pion. However,  supplying  weakness  with  courage,  and 
aiding  courage  by  cool  dexterity,  the  beardless  champion, 
with  sword  in  hand,  advanced  against  his  enormous  anta- 
gonist. The  security  of  the  latter  proved  his  destruction  ; 
for,  endeavoring,  rather  to  tread  out  his  adversary's  life, 
than  to  fight  with  him,  Mimecan  was  tall  enough  to  reach 
the  giant's  hams,  with  his  sword,  and  to  cut  them  so,  that 
his  bulk  came  thundering  to  the  ground  ;  the  gallant  boy 
gave  him  his  death  wound ;  then  dividing  his  head  from 
his  body  he  laid  it  at  the  feet  of  his  lovely  mistress. 

While  Gunhilda,  with  a  soul  truly  royal,  looked  upon 
the  event  of  this  combat  as  her  deliverance,  her  narrow- 
hearted  lord  considered  it  as  her  vindication  :  with  open 
arms  he  invited  her  to  her  former  place  in  his  heart ;  but  she, 
at  once  abhorring  the  fury  of  his  jealousy,  and  disdaining 
the  easiness  of  his  reconciliation,  sought  peace  where  it  can 
best  be  found,  in  retirement  from  worldly  grandeur,  with 
virtuous  affections.  In  vain  were  menaces  and  blandish- 
ments applied  to  shake  this  purpose  of  her  soul ;  she  ob- 
tained a  divorce  from  his  bed  and  person,  and  died  an 
illustrious  example  of  innocence  triumphing  over  malice, 
and  wisdom  adorning  innocence,  by  a  seasonable  retreat 
from  farther  temptations,  and  therefore  from  farther  dan- 
gers. My  readers  will  not  imagine  that  I  have  embellished 
the  above  narrative,  when  1  inform  them,  that,  with  the 
variation  of  but  a  very  few  phrases,  I  have  kept  strictly  to 
the  facts,  as  I  find  them  unanimously  recorded  in  all  our 
oldest,  gravest,  and  most  creditable  historians. —  Guthrie's 
History  of  England. 


116  THE    MUSEUM. 

od*  Jsni  rj.r:  'W.stii'A:-  *irt  jrri  "rs\(\\  trlt-.  ^JoriK-s^i" 

RUSSIAN    AMUSEMENTS. 

THE  swing  is  the  amusement  of  all  ranks  and  conditions, 
and  Easter  witnesses  it  in  its  greatest  perfection,  swings 
being  then  set  up  in  all  the  public  squares.  Another  kind 
of  holiday  diversion  is  the  ice-hills.  A  scaffold  about  thirty 
feet  high,  is  erected  on  the  Neva :  on  one  side  of  it  are 
steps,  or  a  ladder,  to  ascend  to  the  platform  on  the  top  ;  on 
the  opposite  side,  a  steep  inclined  plane,  about  four  yards 
broad  and  thirty  long,  descends  to  the  river ;  this  is  sup- 
ported by  strong  poles,  and  its  sides  are  protected  by  a 
parapet  of  planks.  Large  square  blocks  of  ice,  about  four 
inches  thick,  are  laid  upon  the  inclined  plane,  close  to  one 
another,  and  smoothed  with  the  axe ;  they  are  then  con- 
solidated by  water  thrown  over  them.  The  snow  is  cleared 
away  at  the  bottom  of  the  plane  for  the  length  of  two  hun- 
dred yards  and  the  breadth  of  four;  and  the  sides  of  this 
course,  as  well  as  those  of  the  scaffoldings,  are  ornamented 
and  protected  with  firs  and  pines.  Each  person,  provided 
with  a  little  low  sledge,  something  like  a  butcher's  tray, 
mounts  the  ladder,  and  glides  with  inconceivable  rapidity 
down  the  inclined  plane,  poising  his  sledge  as  he  goes  down. 
The  momentum  thus  acquired,  carries  him  to  a  second  hill, 
at  the  foot  of  which  he  alights,  mounts  again,  and  in  the 
same  manner  glides  down  the  other  inclined  plane  of  ice. 
The  boys  also  amuse  themselves  in  skating  down  these 
hills.  Summer-hills,  constructed  in  imitation  of  the  ice- 
hills,  also  afford  a  favorite  amusement  to  the  inhabitants  of 
St.  Petersburgh,  especially  during  their  carnivals.  These 
consist  of  a  scaffold  between  thirty  and  forty  feet  high, 
with  an  inclined  plane  in  front,  flowers  and  boughs  of  trees 
sheltering  the  person  in  the  descent ;  a  small,  narrow  cart 
on  four  wheels  is  used  instead  of  the  sledge  :  below,  there 
is  a  level  stage  of  some  hundred  feet  in  length,  along  which 
he  is  carried  by  the  impulse  of  his  descent.  This  amuse- 
ment has  been  introduced  at  Paris,  under  the  name  of  the 
Russian  mountains. 


THE    MUSEUM.  117 


CHASTISEMENT    OP    THE    INQUISITORS   OF   8ARRAGOSSA. 

THE  following  incident  affords  an  instance,  unfortu- 
nately of  rare  occurrence,  in  which  the  rulers  and  agents 
of  that  all  powerful  and  oppressive  body,  the  Inquisition, 
have  sometimes  been  checked  in  their  infamy. 

In  1706,  after  the  battle  of  Almanza,  the  Spanish  army 
being  divided  into  two  bodies,  one  of  them  advanced  through 
Valencia,  towards  the  confines  of  Catalonia,  under  the 
command  of  the  Duke  of  Berwick,  and  the  other  composed 
of  fourteen  thousand  French  auxiliaries,  commanded  by 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  proceeded  to  the  conquest  of  Arragon, 
whose  inhabitants  had  declared  themselves  for  king  Charles 
III.  Before  the  duke  arrived  at  the  city  of  Sarragossa,  the 
magistrates  went  to  meet  him,  and  to  offer  him  the  keys  of 
the  town,  but  he  refused  them,  and  preferred  rather  to  enter 
through  a  breach,  according  to  the  customs  of  war,  which 
he  did,  treating  the  people  as  rebels  to  their  lawful  king. 
After  regulating  the  affairs  of  the  city  he  departed  for  Cata- 
lonia, and  in  a  short  time,  Monsieur  de  Legal  was  sent  to 
command  in  his  place. 

The  city  was  ordered  to  pay  a  thousand  crowns  a  month 
for  the  duke's  table,  and  every  house  a  pistole  :  and  besides 
this,  the  convents  were  to  pay  a  donatrice  proportioned  to 
their  rents.  The  college  of  Jesuits  was  charged  with  two 
thousand  pistoles  :  the  Dominicans  with  one  thousand,  the 
Augustins  with  one  thousand,  and  so  the  rest. 

M.  de  Legal  sent  first  to  the  Jesuits,  who  refused  to  pay, 
alleging  their  ecclesiastical  immunity,  but  Legal,  not  ac- 
quainled  with  this  sort  of  excuse,  sent  four  companies  oi 
grenadiers  to  be  quartered  on  the  convent  at  discretion,  so 
that  the  fathers,  fearful  for  their  treasure,  were  soon  glad  to 
pay  the  donatrice  required. 

He  next  sent  to  the  Dominicans.  The  friars  of  this  order 
are  all  familiars  of  the  holy  office  and  dependent  on  it ; 
they  declined  paying,  under  the  pretence  that  they  had  no 
money,  and  said  it  was  impossible  to  satisfy  his  demands, 
unless  they  should  send  the  silver  bodies  of  the  saints. 
They  did  this  in  order  to  terrify  Legal  with  the  apprehen- 
sion of  popular  violence  upon  this  insult  to  the  sacred 


118  THE    MUSEUM. 

images ;  but  he,  equally  politic  with  themselves,  imme- 
diately commanded  four  companies  more  of  his  grenadiers 
to  line  the  streets,  holding  out  his  musket  in  one  hand,  and 
a  lighted  candle  in  the  other,  to  receive  with  all  possible 
devotion,  the  procession  of  the  priests,  who  advanced  bear- 
ing the  images.  Having  received  the  saints,  he  sent  them 
to  the  mint,  promising  the  father  prior  to  send  him  what 
remained  above  the  thousand  pistoles.  The  friars,  being 
disappointed  in  their  design  of  raising  the  people,  went  to 
the  inquisitors  to  desire  them  to  release  their  saints  out  of 
the  mint,  by  excommunicating  M.  Legal,  which  the  in- 
quisitors did  upon  the  spot ;  and  as  soon  as  the  excommu- 
nication was  drawn  up,  they  sent  it  by  the  hands  of  their 
secretary  to  be  read  to  him.  The  governor  mildly  replied 
that  he  would  reply  to  the  inquisitors  the  next  morning, 
and  so  dismissed  the  secretary  perfectly  satisfied.  At  the 
same  moment,  without  reflecting  upon  any  consequence, 
he  called  his  own  secretary,  and  bid  him  draw  up  a  copy 
of  the  excommunication,  putting  out  the  name  of  Legal, 
and  inserting  that  of  the  holy  inquisitors. 

The  next  morning  he  gave  orders  for  four  regiments  to 
be  ready,  and  sent  them,  along  with  his  secretary,  to  the 
inquisition,  with  commands  to  read  the  excommunication 
to  the  inquisitors  themselves,  and  if  they  made  the  least 
remonstrance,  to  turn  them  forth,  open  all  the  prisons,  and 
quarter  two  regiments  there.  The  inquisitors,  as  was  na- 
tural, exclaimed  violently  against  such  treatment,  and  de- 
nouncing the  most  terrible  threats  against  its  author,  the 
secretary  placed  them  under  a  strong  guard  and  conveyed 
them  to  a  house  prepared  for  the  purpose,  from  which  they 
shortly  set  off  for  Madrid  to  complain  to  the  king ;  but, 
although  he  affected  to  be  very  sorry  for  what  had  hap- 
pened, he  told  them  that,  as  his  crown  was  in  the  greatest 
danger,  and  as  the  affront  was  offered  by  the  troops  of  his 
grandfather,  who  defended  it,  they  must  wait  with  patience, 
until  his  affairs  should  take  a  more  prosperous  turn. 

The  secretary  of  Monsieur  Legal,  according  to  his  order, 
next  opened  the  doors  of  all  the  prisons,  and  then  the  pro- 
fligate wickedness  of  these  inquisitors  was  detected.  Four 
hundred  prisoners  obtained  their  liberty  on  that  day,  among 
them  were  found  one  hundred  and  fifty  young"  women, 


THE    MUSEUM.  119 

who  belonged  to  the  seraglio  of  the  three  inquisitors,  as 
some  of  them  afterwards  confessed  !  This  discovery,  so 
dangerous  to  the  holy  tribunal,  was  in  some  measure  pre- 
vented by  the  archbishop,  who  went  to  M.  Legal,  to  request 
him  to  send  these  young  women  to  his  palace,  that  he 
might  take  care  of  them ;  and  in  the  mean  time,  he  pro- 
claimed an  ecclesiastical  censure  against  such  as  should 
venture  to  defame  the  sacred  inquisition  by  groundless  re- 
ports upon  the  subject;  thus  confirming  the  universal 
belief  of  its  iniquity  !  The  governor  answered,  that  he 
should  be  happy  to  oblige  his  grace  in  any  thing  within  his 
power,  but  for  these  young  women,  the  French  officers  had 
succeeded  in  hurrying  them  away. 

"  As  I  travelled  in  France  some  time  after,"  says  the  nar- 
rator, "  I  met  with  one  of  these  women  at  the  inn  at  which 
I  lodged,  who  had  been  brought  there  by  the  son  of  the  inn- 
keeper, formerly  a  lieutenant  in  the  French  service  in  Spain, 
and  whom  he  afterwards  married  for  her  great  merit  and 
beauty.  She  was  daughter  of  the  counsellor  Balabriga ;  I 
had  known  her  before  she  had  been  seized  by  the  inquisi- 
tors' orders ;  her  father  died  of  grief \  without,  the  consola- 
tion of  revealing  the  cause  of  his  distress,  even  to  his  con- 
fessor, so  extreme  was  the  terror  of  the  inquisition  in  every 
mind." 


ASTROLOGICAL    PREDICTIONS. 

DR YDEN  married  the  lady  Elizabeth  Howard,  sister  to  the 
Earl  of  Berkshire,  who  survived  him  eight  years  ;  though 
for  the  last  four  of  them  she  was  a  lunatic,  having  been  de- 
prived of  her  senses  by  a  nervous  fever.  By  this  lady  he 
had  three  sons :  Charles,  John,  and  Henry.  Of  the  eldest 
of  these,  there  is  a  circumstance  related  by  Charles  Wilson, 
Esq.  in  his  life  of  Congreve,  which  seems  so  well  attested, 
and  is  itself  of  so  very  extraordinary  a  nature,  that  we  cannot 
avoid  giving  it  a  place. 

Dryden,  with  all  his  understanding,  was  weak  enough  to 
be  fond  of  judicial  astrology,  and  used  to  calculate  the  nati- 
vity of  his  children.  When  his  lady  was  in  labor  with  his 


120  THE    MUSEUM. 

son  Charles,  he  being  told  it  was  decent  to  withdraw,  laid 
his  watch  on  the  table,  begging  one  of  the  ladies  then  pre- 
sent, in  a  most  solemn  manner,  to  take  exact  notice  of  the 
very  minute  that  the  child  was  born ;  which  she  did,  and 
acquainted  him  with  it.  About  a  week  after,  when  his  lady 
was  pretty  well  recovered,  Mr.  Dryden  took  occasion  to  tell 
her,  that  he  had  been  calculating  the  child's  nativity  ;  and 
observed,  with  grief,  that  he  was  born  in  an  evil  hour,  for 
Jupiter,  Venus,  and  the  Sun,  were  all  under  the  earth,  and 
the  lord  of  his  ascendant  afflicted  with  a  hateful  square  of 
Mars  and  Saturn.  "If  he  lives  to  arrive  at  the  eighth 
year,"  says  he,  "  he  will  go  near  to  die  a  violent  death  on 
his  very  birth-day :  but  if  he  should  escape,  as  I  see  but 
small  hopes,  he  will,  in  the  twenty-third  year,  be  under  the 
very  same  evil  direction ;  and  if  he  should  escape  that  also, 

the  thirty-third  or  thirty-fourth  year  is,  I  fear ."  Here 

he  was  interrupted  by  the  immoderate  grief  of  his  lady, 
who  could  no  longer  hear  calamity  prophesied  to  befall  her 
son. 

The  time  at  last  came,  and  August  was  the  inauspicious 
month  in  which  young  Dryden  was  to  enter  into  the  eighth 
year  of  his  age.  The  court  being  in  progress,  and  Mr. 
Dryden  at  leisure,  he  was  invited  to  the  country-seat  of  the 
Earl  of  Berkshire,  his  brother-in-law,  to  keep  the  long^  vaca- 
tion with  him  at  Charleton,  in  Wilts ;  his  lady  was  invited 
to  her  uncle  Mordaunt's,  to  pass  the  remainder  of  the  sum- 
mer. When  they  came  to  divide  the  children,  lady  Eliza- 
beth would  have  him  take  John,  and  suffer  her  to  take 
Charles  ;  but  Mr.  Dryden  was  too  absolute,  and  they  part- 
ed in  anger ;  he  took  Charles  with  him,  and  she  waa 
obliged  to  be  contented  with  John.  When  the  fatal  day 
came,  the  anxiety  of  the  lady's  spirits  occasioned  such  an 
effervescence  of  blood,  as  threw  her  into  so  violent  a  fever, 
that  her  life  was  despaired  of,  till  a  letter  came  from  Mr. 
Dryden,  reproving  her  for  her  womanish  credulity,  arid  as- 
suring her  that  her  child  was  well :  this  recovered  her  spirits, 
and  in  six  weeks  after  she  received  an  eclaircissement  of  the 
whole  affair. 

Mr.  Dryden,  either  through  fear  of  being  reckoned  su- 
perstitious, or  thinking  it  a  science  beneath  his  study,  was 
extremely  cautious  of  letting  any  one  know  that  he  was  a 


THE    MUSEUM.  121 

dealer  in  astrology ;  therefore  could  not  excuse  his  absence, 
on  his  son's  anniversary,  from  a  general  hunting  match 
which  lord  Berkshire  had  made,  to  which  all  the  neighbor- 
ing gentlemen  were  invited.  When  he  went  out,  he  took 
care  to  set  the  boy  a  double  exercise  in  the  Latin  tongue, 
which  he  taught  his  children  himself,  with  a  strict  charge 
not  to  stir  out  of  the  room  till  his  return  ;  well  knowing  the 
task  he  had  set  him  would  take  up  longer  time.  Charles 
was  performing  his  duty  in  obedience  to  his  father ;  but,  as 
ill  fate  would  have  it,  the  stag  made  towards  the  house ;  and 
the  noise  alarming  the  servants,  they  hastened  out  to  see 
the  sport.  One  of  them  took  young  Dryden  by  the  hand, 
and  led  him  out  to  see  it  also ;  when,  just  as  they  came  to 
the  gate,  the  stag  being  at  bay  with  the  dogs,  made  a  bold 
push,  and  leaped  over  the  court  wall,  which  was  very  low 
and  very  old ;  and  the  dogs  following,  threw  down  a  part,  of 
the  wall  ten  yards  in  length,  under  which  Charles  Dryden 
lay  buried.  He  was  immediately  dug  out ;  and  after  six 
weeks  languishing  in  a  dangerous  way,  he  recovered.  So 
far  Dryden's  prediction  was  fulfilled.  In  the  twenty  third 
year  of  his  age,  Charles  fell  from  the  top  of  an  old  tower 
belonging  to  the  Vatican  at  Rome,  occasioned  by  a  swim- 
ming in  his  head  with  which  he  was  seized,  the  heat  of  the 
day  being  excessive.  He  again  recovered,  but  was  ever  af- 
ter in  a  languishing  sickly  state.  In  the  thirty  third  year  of 
his  age,  being  returned  to  England,  he  was  unhappily  drown- 
ed at  Windsor.  He  had,  with  another  gentleman,  swam 
twice  over  the  Thames,  but  returning  a  third  time,  it  was 
supposed  he  was  taken  with  the  cramp,  because  he  called 
out  for  help,  though  too  late.  Thus  the  father's  calculation 
proved  but  too  prophetical. 


CONFLICT    WITH    A    RATTLESNAKE. 

THE  ship  Prosperity,  from  London,  reached  one  of  the 
West  India  islands  in  May,  1806. 

One  of  the  nTe^Hia^&Bervas,  having  left  the  ship,  wan- 
dered  about  the  island  on  a  sultry  day,  such  as  are  frequent 
in  that  country.  Being  oppressed  with  the  heat  of  the  day 

33 


122  THE     MTTSETTM. 

and  fatigued  with  previous  exertions,  he  laid  himself  down 
to  sleep,  reclining  his  head  on  a  small  hillock,  opposite  a 
rock  about  ten  feet  high.  He  lay  on  his  back,  and  his  eyes, 
after  he  had  slept  a  little,  were  directed,  as  the  first  object 
that  met  them  to  the  perpendicular  height  before  him. 
What  was  his  horror  to  discover  on  the  top  of  it  a  rattle- 
snake, with  part  of  its  body  coiled  up,  and  the  other  pro- 
jecting considerably  over  the  precipice,  with  its  keen  and 
beautiful,  yet  malignant  eyes,  steadily  fixed  upon  him  !  he 
felt  as  if  charmed  to  the  spot.  The  witchery  of  the  serpent's 
eyes  so  irresistibly  rooted  him  to  the  spot,  that,  for  the  mo- 
ment, he  did  not  wish  to  remove  from  his  formidable  oppo- 
nent. The  rattlesnake  gradually  and  slowly  uncoiled  its 
body,  all  the  while  steadily  keeping  its  eyes  on  those  of  its 
intended  victim. 

Jervas  now  began  to  cry  out,  without  being  able  to  move, 
"  he'll  bite  me  !  take  him  away." 

The  snake  now  began  to  writhe  its  body  down  a  fissure 
in  the  rock,  keeping  its  head  elevated  a  little  more  than  a 
foot  from  the  ground.  Its  rattle  made  a  very  little  noise, 
It  every  moment  darted  out  its  forked  tongue,  its  eyes  be 
came  reddish  or  inflamed,  and  it  moved  rather  quicker 
than  at  first.  It  was  now  within  two  yards  of  its  victim, 
who  by  some  means  had  dissipated  the  charm,  and  roused 
by  a  sense  of  awful  danger,  determined  to  stand  on  the  de- 
fensive. To  run  away  from  it,  he  knew  would  be  imprac- 
ticable, as  the  snake  would  instantly  dart  its  whole  body  after 
him.  He  therefore  resolutely  stood  up,  and  put  a  strong  glove 
on  his  right  hand,  which  he  happened  fortunately  to  have 
with  him.  He  stretched  out  his  arm  :  the  snake  approach- 
ed slowly  and  cautiously  to  him,  darting  out  its  tongue  still 
more  frequently.  Jervas  recommended  himself  fervently 
to  the  protection  of  Heaven.  The  snake,  when  about  a 
yard  distant,  made  a  violent  spring.  Jervas  caught  it  in 
his  right  hand,  directly  under  its  head.  He  squeezed  it 
with  all  his  power.  Its  eyes  almost  started  out  of  its  head. 
Tf  lashed  its  body  on  the  ground,  at  the  same  time  rattling 
loudly,  ne  u^CllC^  ^"  Opportunity,  and  suddenly  holding 
the  animal's  head,  while  for  a  moment  it  drew  in  its  forked 
tongue,  with  his  left  hand,  he  by  a  violent  contraction  of  all 
the  mucles  in  his  hand,  contrived  to  close  effectually  its  jaws. 


CONFLICT    WITH    A    RATTLESNAKE. 
See  page  122,  TO!.  II. 


THE    MUSEUM.  123 

Much  was  now  done,  but  much  more  was  to  be  done.  He 
had  avoided  much  danger,  but  he  was  still  in  very  perilous 
circumstances.  If  he  moved  his  right  hand  from  its  neck 
for  a  moment,  the  snake,  by  avoiding  suffocation,  could 
easily  muster  sufficient  power  to  force  its  head  out  of  his 
hand  ;  and  if  he  withdrew  his  hand  from  its  jaws  he  would 
be  fatally  in  the  power  of  its  most  dreaded  fangs.  He  re- 
tained, therefore,  his  hold,  with  both  hands.  He  drew  its 
body  between  his  thighs  in  order  to  aid  the  compression, 
and  hasten  suffocation.  Suddenly,  the  snake,  which  had 
remained  quiescent  for  a  few  moments,  brought  up  its  tail 
hit  him  violently  on  the  side  of  the  head,  and  then  darted  its 
body  several  times  very  tightly  round  his  waist.  Now  was 
the  very  acme  of  his  danger.  Thinking,  therefore,  that  he 
had  sufficient  power  over  its  body,  he  withdrew  his  right 
hand  from  its  neck,  and  took  (the  work  of  a  moment)  his 
large  sailor's  knife  out  of  his  hat.  He  bent  its  head  on  his 
knee,  and,  recommending  himself  again  fervently  to  Heaven, 
cut  its  head  from  its  body,  throwing  the  head  to  a  great  dis- 
tance. The  blood  spouted  violently  in  his  face :  the  snake 
compressed  his  body  still  tighter ;  and  Jervas,  growing  black 
in  the  face,  thought  he  should  be  suffocated  on  the  spot,  and 
laid  himself  down.  The  snake  again  rattled  its  tail,  and 
lashed  his  feet  with  it.  Gradually,  however,  he  found  it  re- 
laxing its  hold  ;  it  soon  fell  slack  around  him,  and  untwist- 
ing it,  be  threw  it  from  him  as  far  as  he  was  able.  He  sunk 
and  swooned  on  the  bank.  Some  natives  coming  by,  and 
seeing  the  snake,  but  not  noticing  its  head  was  cut  off,  and 
Jervas  motionless,  concluded  he  was  killed.  However,  they 
saw  at  last  the  condition  of  the  snake,  and  that  Jervas*  was 
recovering  a  little  :  they  gave  him  a  little  ruin,  unbuttoned 
his  shirt,  and,  by  friendly  aid,  in  a  very  short  time  he  re- 
covered. 


SINGULAR    DISCOVERIES    OF    MURDER. 

IT  is  believed  that,  few  murderers  escape  without  meeting 
with  the  awful  punishment  due  to  their  crimes.  Many 
strange  stories,  indeed,  have  been  told  of  this  kind,  some  of 


124  THE    MUSEUM. 

which,  however,  it  must  be  confessed,  stand  on  too  good 
authority  to  be  rejected.  The  following  is  translated  from 
a  respectable  publication  at  Basle. 

A  person  who  worked  in  a  brewery,  quarreled  with  one 
of  his  fellow-workmen,  and  struck  him  in  such  a  manner 
that  he  died  upon  the  spot.  No  other  person  was  witness 
to  the  deed.  He  then  took  the  dead  body,  and  threw  it 
into  a  large  fire  under  the  boiling-vat,  where  it  was  in  a 
short  time  so  completely  consumed,  that  no  traces  of  its  ex- 
istence remained.  On  the  following  day,  when  the  man  was 
missed,  the  murderer  observed  very  coolly,  that  he  had  per- 
ceived his  fellow-servant  to  have  been  intoxicated  ;  and  that 
he  had  probably  fallen  from  a  bridge  which  he  had  to  cross 
in  his  way  home,  and  been  drowned.  For  the  space  of  seven 
years  after,  no  one  entertained  any  suspicions  of  the  real 
state  of  the  fact.  At  the  end  of  this  period,  the  murderer 
was  again  employed  in  the  same  brewery.  He  was  then 
induced  to  reflect  on  the  singularity  of  the  circumstance  that 
his  crime  remained  so  long  concealed.  Having  retired  one 
evening  to  rest,  one  of  the  other  workmen,  who  slept  with 
him,  hearing  him  say  in  his  sleep,  "  It  is  now  full  seven 
years  ago,"  asked  him,  "  what  was  it  you  did  seven  years 
ago  7"  "  I  put  him,"  he  replied,  still  speaking  in  his  sleep, 
"under  the  boiling-vat."  As  the  affair  was  not  entirely 
forgotten,  it  immediately  occurred  to  the  man  that  his  bed- 
fellow must  allude  to  the  person  who  was  missing  about 
that  time,  and  he  accordingly  gave  information  of  what  he 
had  heard  to  a  magistrate.  The  murderer  was  apprehend- 
ed ;  and  though  at  first  he  denied  that  he  knew  any  thing 
of  tRe  matter,  a  confession  of  his  crime  was  at  length  ob- 
tained from  him,  for  which  he  suffered  condign  punishment. 


The  following  event  lately  happened  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Frankfort-upon-the-Oder: — A  woman,  conceiving  that 
her  husband  who  was  a  soldier  in  the  Prussian  service, 
had  been  killed  in  the  battle  of  Jena,  1800,  married  another 
man.  It  turned  out  that  her  husband  had  been  only 
wounded,  and  taken  prisoner  by  the  French.  A  cure  was 
soon  effected  ;  and  he  joined  one  of  the  Prussian  regiments 
which  entered  into  the  pay  of  France.  After  serving  three 
years  in  Spain,  he  was  discharged ;  returned  suddenly  to 


THE    MUSEUM.  125 

his  native  country,  and  appeared  greatly  rejoiced  to  find  his 
wife  alive.  She  received  him  with  every  mark  of  affection, 
but  did  not  avow  the  new  matrimonial  connection  she  had 
formed.  After  partaking  of  some  refreshment,  he  com- 
plained of  being  quite  overcome  with  fatigue,  and  retired  to 
rest.  She  immediately  joined  with  her  new  husband  to 
despatch  the  unwelcome  visitor  in  his  sleep;  which  they 
accomplished  by  strangling  him,  and  putting  his  body  into 
a  sack.  About  midnight,  in  conveying  it  to  the  Oder,  the 
weight  of  the  corpse  burst  the  sack,  and  one  of  the  legs 
hung  out.  The  woman  set  about  sewing  up  the  rent,  and 
in  her  hurry  and  confusion,  sewed  in  at  the  same  time  the 
skirls  of  her  accomplice's  coat.  Having  reached  the  bank 
of  the  river,  and  making  a  great  effort  to  precipitate  his  load 
as  far  into  the  stream  as  possible,  he  was  dragged  from  the 
elevated  ground  he  had  chosen  into  the  river,  but  contrived 
to  keep  his  head  above  water  for  several  minutes.  The 
woman  not  considering  how  important  it  was  to  keep  si- 
lent, filled  the  air  with  her  cries,  and  brought  to  the  spot 
several  peasants,  who,  at  the  hazard  of  their  own  lives, 
extricated  the  drowning  man  from  his  perilous  situation, 
at  the  same  time  discovering  the  cause.  The  man  and 
woman  were  charged  with  the  crime,  made  a  full  confession, 
and  were  consigned  to  the  officers  of  justice. 


THE    HINDOO    DEVOTEE. 

THE  Hindoo  enthusiast  marches  as  a  warrior  to  con- 
quest :  by  his  horrible  penances  and  sufferings,  Heaven  is 
assailed,  and  the  alarmed  deities  occasionally  tremble  for 
their  thrones.  The  poern  of  the  Curse  of  Kehama,  by  Mr. 
Southey,  is  constructed  on  this  singular  mythology,  the 
story  being  that  of  a  performer  of  these  awful  doings,  who 
is  only  defeated  in  an  attack  upon  Heaven,  and  upon  Hell, 
by  the  efficacy  of  one  of  his  own  charms  against  himself. 
Thus  the  pious  suffering  of  the  Indian  Yogee  is  not  ac- 
companied with  the  same  prostration  of  spirit  as  that  of  the 
Christian  devotee  of  former  times,  although  at  the  bottom  a 

passion  for  earthly  homage  and  posthumous  honors  have 

33* 


126  THE  MUSEUM. 

operated  upon  the  one,  and  still  continue  to  actuate  the 
other.  That  this  inference  is  correct,  appears  from  the 
fact,  that  when  admiration  and  reverence  are  excited  by 
these  miseries,  they  continue ;  and  they  cease  when  they 
are  regarded  with  contempt.  Contempt  itself  is  one  of  the 
finest  penances  for  sinful  man  that  can  be  imagined  ;  yet 
no  devotee  seems  disposed  to  incur  it,  though  many  profess 
to  regard  the  follies  which  now  excite  it,  as  the  godly  deeds 
of  saints  and  intercessors,  each  of  whom  enjoys  an  eternal 
crown  of  glory  for  his  reward. 

Pranporee,  having  been  adopted  by  a  Hindoo  devotee, 
and  educated  by  him  in  the  rigid  tenets  of  his  religion,  was 
yet  young  when  he  commenced  the  course  of  his  extra- 
ordinary mortifications.  The  first  vow  which  the  plan  of 
life  he  had  chosen  to  himself  induced  him  to  make,  was  to 
continue  perpetually  upon  his  legs,  and  neither  to  sit  down 
upon  the  ground  nor  lay  down  to  rest,  for  the  space  of 
twelve  years.  All  this  time,  he  told  rne,  he  had  employed 
in  wandering  through  different  countries.  When  1  in- 
quired how  he  took  the  indispensable  refreshment  of  sleep 
when  wearied  with  fatigue,  he  said,  that  at  first,  to  prevent 
his  falling,  he  used  to  be  tied  with  ropes  to  some  tree  or  post, 
but  that  this  precaution,  after  some  time,  became  unneces- 
sary, and  he  was  able  to  sleep  standing,  without  such 
support. 

The  complete  term  of  this  first  penance  being  expired,  the 
next  he  undertook  was  to  hold  his  hands,  locked  in  each 
other,  over  his  head,  the  fingers  of  one  hand  dividing  those 
of  the  other,  for  the  same  space  of  twelve  years.  He  was 
still  determined  not  to  dwell  in  any  fixed  abode ;  so  that, 
before  the  term  of  this  last  vow  could  be  accomplished,  he 
had  travelled  over  the  greater  part  of  the  continent  of  Asia. 
He  first  set  out  by  crossing  the  peninsula  of  India,  through 
Guzerat:  he  then  passed  by  Surat  to  Bassora,  and  thence 
to  Constantinople :  from  Turkey  he  went  to  Ispahan,  and 
sojourned  so  long  among  the  different  Persian  tribes  as  to 
obtain  a  considerable  knowledge  of  their  language,  in  which 
he  conversed  with  tolerable  ease.  In  his  passage  from 
thence  towards  Russia,  he  fell  in  with  the  Kussauks  (hordes 
of  Cossacks)  upon  the  borders  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  where  he 
narrowly  escaped  being  condemned  to  perpetual  slavery :  at 


THE    MUSEUM.  127 

length  he  was  suffered  to  pass  on,  and  reached  Moscow :  he 
then  travelled  along  the  northern  boundary  of  the  Russian 
empire,  and  through  Siberia,  arrived  at  Pekin  in  China, 
from  whence  he  came  through  Thibet,  by  the  way  of 
Teshoo  Loomboo  and  Nepaul,  down  to  Calcutta.  When 
I  first  saw  him  at  this  place,  in  the  year  1783,  he  rode  upon 
a  pie-bald  Tangun  horse  from  Bootau,  and  wore  a  satin 
embroidered  dress  given  to  him  by  Teshoo  Lama,  of  which 
he  was  not  a  little  vain.  He  was  robust  and  hale,  and  his 
complexion  contrasted  with  a  long  bushy  black  beard,  ap- 
peared realiy  florid.  I  do  not  suppose  that  he  was  then  forty 
years  of  age. 

Two  Goseins  attended  him,  and  assisted  him  in  mount- 
ing and  alighting  from  his  horse.  Indeed,  he  was  indebted 
to  them  for  the  assistance  of  their  hands  on  every  occasion ; 
his  own  being  fixed  immovable  in  the  position  in  which  he 
had  placed  them,  were  of  course  perfectly  useless.  The  cir- 
culation of  blood  seemed  to  have  foresaken  his  arms  ;  they 
were  withered  and  void  of  sensation,  and  inflexible ;  yet  he 
spoke  to  me  with  confidence  of  recovering  the  use  of  them, 
and  mentioned  his  intention  to  take  them  down  the  following 
year,  when  the  term  of  his  penance  would  expire. 

To  complete  the  full  measure  of  his  religious  penance,  I 
understood  that  there  still  remained  two  other  experiments 
for  Pranporee  to  perform.  In  the  first  of  these  the  devotee 
is  suspended  by  the  feet  to  a  branch  of  a  tree  over  a  fire, 
which  is  kept  in  a  continued  blaze,  and  swung  backwards 
and  forwards,  his  hair  passing  through  the  flame,  for  one 
pahr  and  quarter,  that  is,  three  hours  and  three  quarters. 
Having  passed  through  this  fiery  trial,  he  may  then  prepare 
himself  for  the  last  act  of  probation,  which  is  to  be  buried 
alive,  standing  upright  in  a  pit  dug  for  the  purpose,  the  fresh 
earth  being  thrown  in  upon  him,  so  that  he  is  completely 
covered  :  in  this  situation  he  must  remain  for  one  phar  and 
a  quarter,  or  three  hours  and  three  quarters  ;  and  if,  at  the 
expiration  of  that  time  on  the  removal  of  the  earth  he  should 
be  found  alive,  he  will  ascend  into  the  highest  rank,  among 
the  most  pure  of  the  Yogee. —  Turner's  Embassy  to  the 
Teshoo  Lama. 


128  THE    MUSEUM. 


THE  SPECTRE'S  VOYAGE. 

THERE  is  a  part  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  between  the  city 
and  the  little  village  of  Clase,  which  is  called  "  The  Spec- 
tre's Voyage,"  and  across  which  neither  entreaty  nor  remu- 
neration will  induce  any  boatman  to  convey  passengers  after 
a  certain  hour  of  the  night.  The  superstitious  notions  cur- 
rent among  the  lower  orders  are,  that  at  that  hour  a  female 
is  seen  in  a  small  vessel  crossing  from  Geneva  to  Clase ;  that 
the  vessel  sails  with  the  utmost  rapidity  in  a  dead  calm,  and 
even  against  the  wind  ;  that  to  encounter  it  is  fatal ;  that 
the  voyager  lands  from  it  on  the  coast  of  Savoy,  a  little 
beyond  the  village ;  that  she  remains  sometimes  on  shore 
making  the  most  fearful  lamentations;  that  she  then  re-en- 
ters the  vessel,  and  sails  back  in  the  same  manner;  and 
that  both  boat  and  passenger  vanish  as  they  enter  the  river 
Rhone. 

Curious  to  ascertain  the  circumstances  which  gave  rise  to 
a  traditionary  story  so  singular,  I  made  inquiries  among  the 
boatmen  and  other  persons  who  seemed  most  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  terrors  which  it  excited,  and  from  them  I 
gathered  the  particulars  of  the  following  narrative. 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  when  the  whole  of  Europe  was 
one  theatre  of  lawless  violence,  when  might  was  constantly 
triumphant  over  right,  and  princes  and  soldiers  only  respected 
the  simple  principle, 

"  That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 
And  they  should  keep  who  can ;" 

the  little  republic  of  Geneva  was  distinguished  by  the  zeal 
and  patriotism  of  its  citizens,  and  by  the  firmness  and  valor 
with  which  they  had  preserved  their  independence  against 
the  successive  atacks  of  the  Emperor,  the  King  of  France, 
and  the  Duke  of  Savoy.  The  ducal  coronet  was  at  the  time 
worn  by  Charles  Emanuel,  surnamed  the  Great,  a  prince 
of  a  naturally  feeble  constitution,  but  of  an  enterprising 
spirit ;  of  great  talents,  both  military  and  political,  of  un- 
daunted courage,  and  of  insatiable  ambition.  His  troops 
were  the  bravest  and  best  disciplined  in  Europe,  and  had 
enabled  him  to  seize,  and  retain  possession  of  for  some  time, 


TTTK    MUSEUM.  129 

the  fairest  provinces  of  France.  These  advantages,  to- 
gether with  the  proximity  of  his  dominions  to  Geneva, 
rendered  him  by  far  the  most  formidable  foe  with  whom  the 
republic  had  to  contend.  Their  differences  in  religion  added 
to  the  causes,  political  and  geographical,  by  which  the  na- 
tional hatred  between  the  Genevese  and  the  Savoyards  was 
kept  alive.  The  reformed  religion,  which,  in  1533.  had 
been  introduced  among  the  former  by  William  Parrel,  was 
finally  established  by  John  Calvin,  in  1536,  while  the  sub- 
jects of  the  Duke  of  Savoy  continued  to  be  the  most  zealous 
and  bigoted  adherents  to  the  church  of  Rome. 

At  the  period  to  which  our  narrative  refers,  peace  existed 
between  the  two  parties ;  but  the  duke  continued  to  keep 
an  army  of  observation  on  the  frontier,  under  the  command 
of  one  of  his  most  experienced  generals,  the  Count  of  Mar- 
tigny ;  and  the  republicans  jealously  guarded  their  walls 
against  any  treacherous  attempt  on  the  part  of  their  neigh- 
bors. Occasional  bickerings  would  nevertheless  take  place 
between  the  citizens  and  the  soldiers.  The  latter,  however, 
usually  conducted  themselves  with  by  far  the  most  temper 
and  prudence.  A  coarse  joke,  or  a  bitter  sneer,  at  the 
formal  dress  and  demure  deportment  of  the  Calvinistic 
preachers,  was  the  utmost  outrage  in  which  they  indulged ; 
while  the  others,  with  all  the  zeal  of  new  converts,  no 
sooner  crossed  the  frontier  than  they  demolished  the  crosses 
which  were  set  up  on  the  road  side,  frequently  put  to  rout  a 
family  of  peasants  as  they  were  singing  their  evening  hymn 
to  the  Virgin,  tore  down  the  lamp  and  the  picture,  and 
trampled  contemptuously  upon  all  the  sacred  relics  they 
could  find.  The  Count  of  Martigny  never  failed  to  take 
summary  vengeance  upon  such  of  the  offenders  as  fell  into 
his  power,  and  even  to  visit  the  sins  of  the  guilty  upon  the 
innocent.  Wherever  a  cross  had  been  torn  down,  he 
erected  a  gibbet,  and  hung  up  the  heretic  over  the  conse- 
crated spot  which  he  had  violated.  The  inexorable  severity 
with  which  he  pursued  this  sanguinary  mode  of  retaliation, 
rendered  him  an  object  of  the  utmost  terror  and  detesta- 
tion to  the  Genevese ;  and  he  shared  with  the  devil  and 
the  pope,  the  benefit  of  the  curses  with  which  they  closed 
all  their  religious  exercises. 

The  favorite  recreation  of  the  Genevese  then,  as  now, 


130  THE    MTTSETTM. 

was  to  make  excursions,  either  alone  or  in  small  parties, 
upon  their  majestic  lake.  This  amusement  had  become  so 
much  a  custom  with  them,  that  the  most  timid  females  were 
not  afraid  to  venture  alone,  and  at  night,  in  a  small  skiff 
with  which  almost  every  family  of  respectability  was  pro- 
vided ;  and  on  a  bright  moonlight  night,  the  broad  blue 
bosom  of  the  lake  was  beautifully  diversified  by  the  white 
sails  glittering  in  the  moonbeams,  while  sweet  female  voices 
would  be  heard  warbling  some  popular  melodies,  the  sub- 
jects of  which  were  usually  the  praises  of  the  lake,  or  the 
achievements  of  their  patriots.  It  was  on  such  a  night 
that  the  incident  with  which  our  narrative  commences 
occurred.  The  moon  was  riding  in  an  unclouded  sky — 
unclouded  except  by  those  light  fleecy  vapors  which  hovered 
round  the  form  of  the  queen  of  night,  increasing  rather  than 
diminishing  her  beauty.  The  lake  seemed  one  sheet  of 
silver,  and  numerous  little  vessels,  passing  and  repassing, 
gave  it  a  delightfully  animated  appearance.  In  one,  which 
seemed  to  be  venturing  nearer  to  the  coast  of  Savoy  than 
the  others,  might  be  seen  a  light  and  delicate  female  form, 
and  on  the  shore  which  she  was  approaching,  a  little  above 
the  village  of  Clase,  stood  a  soldier,  whose  uniform  bespoke 
him  to  belong  to  the  army  of  Duke  Charles. 

The  lady  landed,  and  the  soldier  hastened  to  meet  her. 
"  Dearest  Isabel,"  he  said,  "  blessings  upon  thy  generous, 
trusting  heart,  for  this  sweet  meeting  !  I  have  much  to  tell 
thee,  but  my  tongue  dares  not  utter  all  with  which  my 
mind  is  stored  ;  and  if  it  dared,  it  is  not  on  such  a  night  as 
this,  so  bright,  so  beautiful,  that  tidings  dark  as  mine  should 
be  communicated."  Isabel,  who  had  laid  her  head  upon 
his  breast  when  they  met,  started  from  him  and  gazed  with 
the  utmost  terror  and  surprise  at  the  unwonted  gloom  which 
darkened  his  countenance.  "  Theodore,  what  means  this? 
Come  you  to  break  the  trusting  heart  which  beats  for  you 
alone  ?  Come  you  to  cancel  your  vows — to  say  that  we 
must  part  for  ever  ?  Oh  !  better  had  you  left  me  to  the 
mercy  of  the  wave,  when  its  work  of  death  was  half 
achieved,  if  you  reserved  me  only  for  the  misery  which 
awaits  upon  a  broken  heart,  and  blighted  and  betrayed 
affections."  "  Sweet,  dry  these  tears  ?"  replied  the  Savoy- 
ard ;  "  while  I  have  life,  I  am  thine.  I  came  to  warn 


THE  SPECTRE'S  VOYAGE. 

8«e  paj.  131,  rol.  II. 


THE    MUSEUM.  131 

thee  of  sure  but  unseen  danger.  The  walls  of  Geneva  are 
strong,  and  the  arms  and  hearts  of  her  citizens  firm  and 
trusty  ;  but  her  hour  is  come,  and  the  path  of  the  destroyer, 
although  secret,  is  like  her  own  blue  Rhone,  which  hides 
itself  for  a  time  beneath  the  earth  only  to  spring  forth  more 
strongly  and  irresistibly  than  ever."  "  Thy  words  are  dark 
and  dreadful :  but  I  do  not  know  of  any  cause  for  fear,  or 
of  any  means  of  avoiding  it,  if  it  exists."  "  Fly  with  me, 
fly  to  my  own  rich  vales  in  fertile  Italy ;  there  with  thy 
heart  and  hand  reward  my  love,  and  think  no  more  of 
those  grim  walls,  and  sullen  citizens,  with  souls  as  iron  as 
their  beavers,  and  hearts  as  cold  as  the  waters  of  their  lake." 
"  Oh !  no,  no,  no :  my  father's  head  is  gray,  and,  but  for 
me  alone,  all  his  affections,  all  his  hopes  are  buried  in  my 
mother's  grave.  He  hates  thy  creed  and  nation.  When  I 
told  him  that  a  stranger  had  rescued  his  daughter  from  the 
wave,  he  raised  his  hands  to  heaven  and  blessed  him.  I 
told  him  that  that  stranger  was  a  Savoyard ;  he  checked 
his  unfinished  benediction,  and  cursed  thee.  But  if  he 
knew  thee,  Theodore,  thy  noble  heart,  thy  constant  love, 
methinks  that  time  and  entreaty  would  make  him  listen  to 
his  daughter's  prayer."  "  Alas  !  my  Isabel,  entreaty  would 
be  vain,  and  time  is  already  flapping  his  wings,  loaded  with 
inevitable  ruin,  over  yon  devoted  city  and  its  inhabitants. 
Thy  father  shall  be  safe — trust  that  to  me — and  trust  me 
too,  that  what  I  promise  I  can  perform.  But  thou,  my 
loved  one,  thou  must  not  look  upon  the  horrid  face  of  war  ; 
and  though  my  power  extends  to  save  thy  father  from 
injury,  it  would  be  easier  to  save  the  wall-flowers  on  the 
ramparts  of  thy  city  from  the  foot  of  the  invader,  than  one 
so  fair,  so  feeble,  from  his  violence  and  lust."  "  Whoe'er 
thou  art,"  she  said,  "  there  is  a  spell  upon  my  heart  which 
love  and  gratitude  have  twined,  and  which  makes  it  thine 
for  ever  ;  but  sooner  would  I  lock  my  hand  in  that  of  the 
savage  Martigny  himself,  when  reeking  with  the  best  blood 
of  Geneva's  citizens,  than  leave  rny  father's  side  when  his 
gray  hairs  are  in  danger,  and  my  native  city  when  treach- 
ery is  in  her  streets,  and  outrage  is  approaching  her  walls." 
These  words  were  uttered  with  an  animation  and  vehe- 
mence so  unusual  to  her,  that  Theodore  stood  for  a  moment 
transfixed  with  wonder ;  and  before  he  recovered  his  self- 


132  THE    MTTSEtTM. 

possession,  Isabel,  with  the  velocity  of  lightning,  had  re- 
gained her  skiff,  and  was  sailing  before  the  wind  to  Geneva. 
"  Curse  on  my  amorous  folly  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  for  a 
pair  of  pale  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  has  perhaps  ruined 
a  better  concerted  stratagem  than  ever  entered  the  brain  of 
the  Grecian  Simon.  I  must  away,  or  the  false  girl  will 
awake  the  slumbering  citizens  to  their  defence  before  the 
deed  is  done  ;  and  yet,  must  I  devote  her  to  the  foul  grasp 
of  ruffian  violence  !  No,  no,  my  power  is  equal  to  save  or 
destroy."  As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  rapidly  ascended 
the  rocks  which  skirted  that  part  of  the  lake  on  which  he 
stood,  and  was  soon  lost  among  the  wild  woods  that  crowned 
their  summit.  The  principal  events  of  that  night  are 
matters  of  history,  and  are  universally  known.  The  Sa- 
voyards, by  means  of  an  unexpected  attack  during  a  period 
of  profound  peace,  and  aided  by  internal  treachery,  hoped 
to  make  themselves  masters  of  the  city  of  Geneva.  The 
citizens,  however,  had  by  some  unknown  means  obtained 
intelligence  of  the  designs  of  the  enemy,  and  were  prepared 
to  repel  their  attacks.  Every  street  was  lined  with  soldiers, 
and  a  band  of  the  bravest  and  most  determined,  under  the 
command  of  Eustace  Beauvoisin  (Isabel's  father,)  manned 
the  city  walls.  The  struggle  was  short  but  sanguinary — 
the  invaders  were  beaten  back  at  every  point — their  best 
troops  were  left  dead  in  the  trenches — and  above  two  hun- 
dred prisoners  (among  whom  was  the  Count,  de  Martigny 
himself)  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  citizens.  The  successful 
party  set  no  bounds  either  to  their  exultation  or  their  re- 
venge. The  rejoicings  were  continued  for  three  successive 
days.  The  neighboring  country  was  ravaged  without  ces- 
sation and  without  remorse  ;  and  all  the  prisoners  were 
ordered  by  a  decree  of  the  Diet,  to  be  treated  as  felons,  and 
hanged  in  the  most  public  places  in  the  city.  This  decree 
was  rigorously  and  unrelentingly  executed.  The  Savoyard 
soldiers,  without  any  distinction,  as  to  rank  or  character, 
suffered  the  ignominious  punishment  to  which  they  were 
condemned,  and  the  streets  of  Geneva  were  blocked  up  by 
gibbets,  which  the  most  timid  and  merciful  of  its  inhabi- 
tants gazed  upon  with  satisfaction  and  triumph. 

The  Count  of  Martigny,  both  on  account  of  his  rank  and 
of  the  peculiar  degree  of  hatred  with  which  each  Genevesa 


THE    MtTSETTM.  133 

bosom  beat  against  him,  was  reserved  to  be  the  last  victim. 
On  the  day  of  his  execution  the  streets  were  lined  with  spec- 
tators, and  the  principal  families  in  the  city  occupied  stations 
around  the  scaffold.  So  great  was  the  universal  joy  at  hav- 
ing their  persecutor  in  their  power,  that  even  the  wives  and 
daughters  of  the  most  distinguished  citizens  were  anxious  to 
view  the  punishment  inflicted  upon  him.  whom  they  consid- 
ered alike  the  enemy  of  heaven  and  of  themselves.  Isabel, 
was  not  of  this  number:  but  her  father  sternly  compelled 
her  to  be  a  witness  of  the  dismal  scene.  The  hour  of  noon 
was  fast  approaching,  and  the  bell  of  the  cathedral  of  St. 
Pierre,  heavily  and  solemnly  tolled  the  kneel  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Martigny.  The  fatal  cavalcade  approached  the  place 
of  execution.  A  stern  and  solemn  triumph  gleamed  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Genevese  soldiers  as  they  trod  by  the  side  of  the 
victim ;  but  most  of  the  spectators,  especially  the  females, 
were  melted  into  tears,  when  they  beheld  the  fine  manly 
form  of  the  prisoner,  whose  youthful  beauty  seemed  better 
fitted  for  the  royal  levee,  or  a  lady's  bower,  than  for  the 
melancholy  fate,  to  which  he  was  about  to  be  consigned. 
His  head  was  bare,  and  his  light  flaxen  hair  fell  in  a  rich 
profusion  of  locks  down  his  shoulders,  but  left  unshaded  his 
finely  proportioned  and  sun  burnt  features.  He  wore  the 
uniform  of  the  Savoyard  army>  and  a  star  on  his  breast  indi- 
cating his  rank,  while  he  held  in  his  hand  a  small  ivory  cross, 
which  he  frequently  arid  fervently  kissed.  His  deportment 
was  firm  and  contemptuous ;  and  as  he  looked  on  the  for- 
mal, and  frequently  grotesque  figures  of  his  guards,  his  fea- 
tures even  assumed  an  expression  of  risibility.  The  sight 
of  the  gibbet,  however,  seemed  to  appal  him,  for  he  had  not 
been  apprised  of  the  ignominious  nature  of  his  punishment. 
"  And  is  this,"  he  said,  as  he  scornfully  dashed  away  a  tear 
which  had  gathered  in  his  eye,  "  ye  heretic  dogs,  is  this  the 
death  to  which  you  doom  the  heir  of  Martigny  ?"  A  stern 
and  bitter  smile  played  on  the  lips  of  his  guards,  but  they 
remained  silent.  "  Oh,  God,"  he  continued,  "  in  the  field,  on 
the  wave,  or  on  the  block,  which  has  reeked  so  often  with 
the  bravest  and  noblest  blood,  I  could  have  died  smiling, 

but  this ."     His  emotion  seemed  increasing,  but,  with  a 

violent  effort,  he  suppressed  every  outward  sign  of  it ;  for 
the  visible  satisfaction  which  gleamed  on  the  dark  faces 

34 


134  THE    MUSEUM. 

around  him,  at  the  state  of  weakness  to  which  they  had  re- 
duced the  proud  heart  of  their  foe,  was  more  galling  to  his 
soul  than  the  shameful  death  to  which  he  was  devoted. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  place  of  execution  his  face 
had  resumed  its  calm  and  scornful  air,  and  he  sprang  upon 
the  scaffold  with  apparently  unconcerned  alacrity.  At  the 
same  moment  a  dreadful  shriek  issued  from  that  part  of  the 
surrounding  booths  in  which  the  family  of  Beauvoisin  sat; 
and  in  another  instant  a  female,  deadly  pale,  and  with  her 
hair  and  dress  disordered,  had  darted  on  the  scaffold,  and 
elapsed  the  prisoner  in  her  arms.  "  Theodore  ?"  she  cried, 
"  Theodore  ? — can  it  be  thou  ?  oh !  they  dare  not  take  thy 
life — thou  bravest,  best  of  men  !  Avaunt,  ye  blood-thirsty 
brood  !  ye  cannot  tear  me  from  him  !  No  :  till  my  arms 
grow  cold  in  death  I'll  clasp  him  thus,  and  defy  the  world 
to  sever  us  !" — "  Oh,  Isabel !"  he  said,  "  it  is  too  much  :  my 
soul  can  bear  no  more — I  hoped  thy  eyes  had  been  spared 
this  sight — but  the  cold  tyrants  have  decreed  it  thus :  oh  ! 
leave  me — leave  me — it  is  in  vain — unmannered  ruffians, 
spare  her !"  While  he  spoke  the  soldiers  forcibly  tore  her 
from  him,  and  were  dragging  her  through  the  crowd.  "  My 
father !  save  him  !  he  saved  thy  child — Theodore  !  suppli- 
cate him — he  is  kind."  She  turned  her  eyes  to  the  scaffold 
as  she  uttered  these  words,  and  beheld  the  form  of  Martigny, 
writhing  in  the  air,  and  convulsed  with  the  last  mortal  agony. 
A  fearful  shriek  burst  from  her  heart,  and  she  sunk  senseless 
in  the  arms  of  those  who  bore  her. 

Isabel  survived  this  event  more  than  a  twelvemonth ; 
but  her  reason  had  lied,  and  her  health  was  so  shattered 
that  final  recovery  was  hopeless.  She  took  scarcely  any 
food — refused  all  intercourse  with  her  former  friends,  and 
even  with  her  father,  would  sit  silent  and  motionless  for 
days  together.  One  thing  only  soothed  her  mind,  or  afford- 
ed any  gratification ;  and  this  as  she  was  an  experienced 
steers  woman,  her  friends  indulged  her  in — to  sail  from  the 
city  of  Geneva  to  that  spot  on  which  she  used  to  meet  her 
lover.  This  she  did  constantly  every  evening  ;  but  when 
she  landed,  and  had  waited  a  short  time,  her  shrieks  and 
cries  were  pitiable.  This  practice,  one  evening,  proved 
fatal ;  instead  of  steering  to  the  usual  landing  place,  a  little 
above  the  city,  she  entered  the  Rhone,  where  it  emerges 


THE    MUSEUM.  135 

from  the  lake.  The  rapidity  of  its  waves  mastered  and 
overturned  the  frail  bark  in  which  she  sailed,  and  the  unfor- 
tunate Isabel  sunk  to  rise  no  more ! 

The  tragic  nature  of  these  events  made  an  impression  on 
the  popular  mind  which  three  centuries  have  not  effaced. 
The  spirit  of  Isabel  is  still  said  to  sail  every  night  from 
Geneva  to  Clase,  to  meet  her  lover ;  and  the  track  across 
the  lake,  which  this  unearthly  traveller  pursues,  is  distin- 
guished by  the  name  of  "  The  Spectre's  Voyage." 


THE    KNAVISH    GHOST. 

IN  the  year  1704,  a  gentleman,  to  all  appearance  of  large 
fortune,  took  furnished  lodgings  in  a  house  in  Soho-square. 
After  he  had  resided  there  some  weeks  with  his  establish- 
ment, he  lost  his  brother,  who  had  lived  at  Hampstead,  and 
who,  on  his  death-bed,  particularly  desired  to  be  interred  in 
the  family  vault  in  Westminster  Abbey.  The  gentleman 
requested  his  landlord  to  permit  him  to  bring  the  corpse  of 
his  brother  to  his  lodgings,  and  make  arrangements  there 
for  the  funeral.  The  landlord,  without  hesitation,  signified 
his  compliance. ' 

The  body,  dressed  in  a  white  shroud,  was  accordingly 
brought  in  a  very  handsome  coffin,  and  placed  in  the  great 
dining-room.  The  funeral  was  to  take  place  the  next  day, 
and  the  lodger  and  his  servants  went  out  to  make  the  neces- 
sary preparations  for  the  solemnities.  He  staid  out  late,  but 
this  was  no  uncommon  thing.  The  landlord  and  his  family, 
conceiving  that  they  had  no  occasion  to  wait  for  him,  retired 
to  bed  as  usual,  about  twelve  o'clock.  One  maid  servant 
was  left  up  to  let  him  in,  and  to  boil  some  water,  which  he 
had  desired  might  be  ready  for  making  tea  on  his  return. 
The  girl  was  accordingly  sitting  alone  in  the  kitchen,  when 
a  tall,  spectre-looking  figure  entered,  and  clapped  itself  down 
in  a  chair  opposite  her. 

The  maid  was  by  no  means  one  of  the  most  timid  of  her 
sex  ;  but  she  was  terrified  beyond  expression,  lonely  as  she 
was,  at  this  unexpected  apparition.  Uttering  a  loud  scream, 
she  flew  out  Uke  an  arrow,  at  a  side-door,  and  hurried  to 


136  THE    MTTSETTM. 

the  chamber  of  her  master  and  mistress.  Scarcely  had  sht 
av/akened  them,  and  communicated  to  the  whole  family 
some  portion  of  the  fright  with  which  she  was  herself  over- 
whelmed, when  the  spectre,  enveloped  in  a  shroud,  and 
with  a  death-like  paleness,  made  its  appearance,  and  sat 
down  in  a  chair  in  the  bed-room,  without  their  having 
observed  how  it  entered.  The  worst  of  all  was,  that  this 
chair  stood  by  the  door  of  the  bed-chamber,  so  that  not  a 
creature  could  get  away  without  passing  close  to  the  appari- 
tion, which  rolled  its  glaring  eyes  so  frightfully,  and  so 
hideously  distorted  its  features,  that  they  could  not  bear  to 
look  at  it.  The  master  and  mistress  crept  under  the  bed- 
clothes, covered  with  profuse  perspiration,  while  the  maid 
servant  sunk  nearly  insensible  by  the  side  of  the  bed. 

At  the  same  time  the  whole  house  seemed  to  be  in  an  up- 
roar ;  for,  though  they  had  covered  themselves  over  head 
and  ears,  they  could  still  hear  an  incessant  noise  and  clatter, 
which  served  to  increase  their  terror. 

At  length  all  became  perfectly  still  in  the  house.  The 
landlord  ventured  to  raise  his  head,  and  steal  a  glance  at  the 
chair  by  the  door ;  but,  behold  the  ghost  was  gone  !  Sober 
reason  began  to  resume  its  power.  The  poor  girl  was 
brought  to  herself  after  a  good  deal  of  shaking.  In  a  short 
time  they  plucked  up  sufficient  courage  to  quit  the  bed-room, 
and  commence  an  examination  of  the  house,  which  they 
expected  to  find  in  great  disorder.  Nor  were  their  anticipa- 
tions unfounded.  The  whole  house  had  been  stripped  by 
artful  thieves,  and  the  gentleman  had  decamped  without 
paying  for  his  lodging.  It  turned  out  that  he  was  no  other 
than  an  accomplice  of  the  notorious  Arthur  Chambers,  who 
was  executed  at  Tyburn  in  1706,  and  that  the  supposed 
corpse  was  this  arch-rogue  himself,  who  had  whitened  his 
hands  and  face  with  chalk,  and  merely  counterfeited  death. 
About  midnight  he  quilted  the  coffin,  and  appeared  to  the 
maid  in  the  kitchen.  When  she  flew  up  stairs,  he  softly  fol- 
lowed her,  and  seated  at  the  door  of  the  chamber,  he  acted 
as  a  sentinel,  so  that  his  industrious  accomplices  were  ena 
bled  to  plunder  the  house  without  the  least  molestation. 


THE    MPSETTM.  137 


THE   ABSENT    HUSBAND    RETURNED. 

ABOUT  the  year  1706,  I  knew  (says  Dr.  King)  one  Mr. 
Howe,  a  sensible,  well-natured  man,  possessed  of  an  estate 
of  7  (V.  or  801M.  per  annum:  he  married  a  young  lady  of 
good  family  in  the  West  of  England  ;  her  maiden  name  was 
Mallett:  she  was  agreeable  in  her  person  and  manners,  and 
proved  a  very  good  wife. 

Seven  or  eight  years  after  they  had  been  married,  he 
rose  one  morning  very  early,  and  told  his  wife  he  was 
obliged  to  go  to  the  Tower  to  transact  some  particular 
business :  the  same  day  at  noon,  his  wife  received  a  note 
from  him,  in  which  he  informed  her  that  he  was  under  the 
necessity  of  going  to  Holland,  and  should  probably  be  absent 
three  weeks  or  a  month.  He  was  absent  from  her  seven- 
teen years,  during  which  time  she  never  heard  from  him 
or  of  him.  The  evening  before  he  returned,  whilst  she  was 
at  supper,  and  with  some  of  her  friends  and  relations,  par- 
ticularly one  Dr.  Rose,  a  physician,  who  had  married  her 
sis'er,  a  billet,  without  any  name  subscribed,  was  delivered 
to  her,  in  which  the  writer  requested  the  favor  of  her  to  give 
him  a  meeting  the  next  evening  in  the  Birdcage  Walk,  in 
St.  James'  Park.  When  she  had  read  the  billet,  she  tossed 
it  to  Dr.  Rose,  and  laughing,  said,  "  You  see,  brother,  old 
as  I  am,  I  have  a  gallant."  Rose,  who  perused  the  note 
with  more  attention,  declared  it  to  be  Mr.  Howe's  hand- 
writing :  this  surprised  all  the  company,  and  so  much 
affected  Mrs.  Howe,  that  she  fainted  away :  however,  she 
soon  recovered,  when  it  was  agreed  that  Dr.  Rose  and  his 
wife,  with  the  other  gentlemen  and  ladies  who  were  then  at 
supper,  should  attend  Mrs.  Howe  the  next  evening  to  the 
Birdcage  Walk  :  they  had  not  been  there  more  than  five  or 
six  minutes,  when  Mr.  Howe  came  to  them,  and  after  sa- 
luting his  friends  and  embracing  his  wife,  walked  home 
with  her,  and  they  lived  together  in  great  harmony  from 
that  time  to  the  day  of  his  death.  But  the  most  curious 
part  of  my  tale  remains  to  be  related.  When  Howe  left  his 
wife,  they  lived  in  a  house  in  Jermyn  street,  near  St.  James' 
church :  he  went  no  farther  than  to  a  little  street  in  West- 
minster, where  he  took  a  room  for  which  he  paid  five  or  six 

34* 


139  THE    MUSEUM. 

shillings  a  week,  and  changing  his  name,  and  disguising 
himself  by  wearing  a  black  wig,  (for  he  was  a  fair  man,) 
he  remained  in  this  habitation  during  the  whole  time  of  his 
absence !  He  had  two  children  by  his  wife  when  he  de- 
parled  from  her,  who  were  both  living  at  that  time  ;  but  they 
both  died  young  in  a  few  years  after.  However,  during  then 
lives,  the  second  or  third  year  after  their  father  disappeared 
Mrs.  Howe  was  obliged  to  apply  for  an  Act  of  Parliament 
to  procure  a  proper  settlement  of  her  husband's  estate,  and 
a  provision  for  herself  out  of  it  during  his  absence,  as  it  was 
uncertain  vvhetlier  he  was  alive  or  dead  :  this  act  he  suf- 
fered to  be  solicited  and  passed,  and  enjoyed  the  pleasure 
of  reading  the  progress  of  it  in  the  votes,  in  a  little  coffee- 
house near  his  lodging,  which  he  frequented.  Upon  his 
quitting  his  house  and  family  in  the  manner  I  have  men- 
tioned, Mrs.  Howe  at  first  imagined,  as  she  could  not  con- 
ceive any  other  cause  for  such  an  abrupt  elopement,  that  he 
had  contracted  a  large  debt  unknown  to  her,  and  by  that 
means  had  involved  himself  in  difficulties  which  he  could 
not  easily  surmount :  and  for  some  days  she  lived  in  con- 
tinual apprehensions  of  demand  from  creditors,  of  seizures, 
executions,  &c.  But  nothing  of  this  kind  happened  :  on 
the  contrary,  he  did  not  only  leave  his  estate  unencum- 
bered, but  he  paid  the  bills  of  every  tradesman  with  whom 
he  had  any  dealings :  and  upon  examining  his  papers  in 
due  time  after  he  was  gone,  proper  receipts  and  discharges 
were  found  from  all  persons,  whether  tradesmen  or  others, 
with  whom  he  had  any  manner  of  transactions  or  money 
concerns.  Mrs.  Howe,  after  the  death  of  her  children, 
thought  proper  to  lessen  her  family  of  servants  and  the 
expenses  of  her  housekeeping ;  and  therefore  removed  from 
her  house  in  Jermyn  street  to  a  small  house  in  Brewer 
street,  near  Golden  square.  Just  over  against  her  lived  one 
Salt,  a  corn  chandler.  About  ten  years  after  Howe's  abdi 
cation,  he  contrived  to  make  an  acquaintance  with  Salt, 
and  was  at  length  in  such  a  degree  of  intimacy  with  him, 
that  he  usually  dined  with  him  once  or  twice  a  week. 
From  the  room  in  which  they  ate,  it  was  not  difficult  to 
look  into  Mrs.  Howe's  dining  room,  where  she  generally  sat, 
and  received  her  company  ;  and  Salt,  who  believed  Howe 
to  be  a  bachelor,  frequently  recommended  his  own  wife  to 


THE    MUSEUM.  139 

him  as  a  suitable  match.  During  the  last  seven  years  of 
this  gentleman's  absence,  he  went  every  Sunday  to  St. 
James'  church,  and  used  to  sit  in  Mr.  Salt's  seat,  where  he 
had  a  view  of  his  wife,  but  could  not  easily  be  seen  by  her. 
After  he  returned  home,  he  would  never  confess  even  to  his 
most  intimate  friends,  what  was  the  real  cause  of  such  sin- 
gular conduct:  apparently  there  was  none;  but  whatever 
it  was,  he  was  certainly  ashamed  to  own  it.  Dr.  Rose  has 
often  said  to  me,  that  he  believed  his  brother  would  never 
have  returned  to  his  wife  if  the  money  which  he  took  with 
him,  which  was  supposed  to  have  been  £1000  or  £2000, 
had  not  been  all  spent ;  and  he  must  have  been  a  good 
economist,  and  frugal  in  his  manner  of  living,  otherwise 
his  money  would  scarcely  have  held  out ;  for  I  imagine  he 
had  his  whole  fortune  by  him,  I  mean  what  he  carried 
away  with  him  in  money  or  bank  bills,  and  daily  took  out 
of  his  bag,  like  the  Spaniard  in  Gil  Bias,  what  was  suffi- 
cient for  his  expenses. — King's  Anecdotes. 


HONOR  AND  MAGNANIMITY  OF  A  HIGHLAND  SOLDIER. 

IN  the  year  1795,  a  serious  disturbance  broke  out  in 
Glasgow  among  the  Breadalbane  Fencibles.  Several  men 
having  been  confined  and  threatened  with  corporal  punish- 
ment, considerable  discontent  and  irritation  were  excited 
among  their  comrades,  which  increased  to  such  violence, 
that  when  some  men  were  confined  in  the  guard  house,  most 
of  the  regiment  rushed  out  and  forcibly  released  the  pri- 
soners. This  violation  of  military  discipline  was  not  to  be 
passed  over,  and  accordigly  measures  were  taken  to  secure 
the  ringleaders,  and  bring  them  to  punishment.  But  so 
many  were  equally  concerned,  that  it  was  difficult  to  fix  on 
the  proper  subjects  for  punishment.  And  here  was  shown 
a  trait  of  character  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  and  which  ori- 
ginated from  a  feeling  alive  to  the  disgrace  of  a  degrading 
punishment.  The  soldiers  being  made  sensible  of  the  nature 
of  their  misconduct,  and  the  consequent  punishment,  four 
men  voluntarily  offered  themselves  to  stand  trial,  and  suffer 
the  sentence  of  the  law,  as  an  atonement  for  the  whole. 


140  THE    MUSEUM. 

These  men  were  accordingly  marched  to  Edinburgh  castle, 
tried,  and  condemned  to  be  shot.  Three  of  them  were  after- 
wards reprieved,  and  the  fourth  was  shot  on  Musselburgh 
Sands. 

Oa  the  march  to  Edinburgh,  a  circumstance  occurred,  the 
more  worthy  of  notice,  as  it  shows  a  strong  principle  of  honor 
and  fidelity  to  his  word  and  to  his  officer,  in  a  common  High- 
laud  soldier. 

One  of  the  men  stated  to  the  officer  commanding  the  par- 
ty, that  he  knew  what  his  fate  would  be,  but  that  he  had  left 
business  of  the  utmost  importance  to  a  friend  in  Glasgow, 
which  he  wished  to  transact  before  his  death  ;  that  as  to 
himself,  he  was  fully  prepared  to  meet  his  fate ;  but  with 
regard  to  his  friend,  he  could  not  die  in  peace  unless  the 
business  was  settled ;  and  that  if  the  officer  would  suffer 
him  to  return  to  Glasgow,  a  few  hours  there  would  be  suffi- 
cient ;  that  he  would  join  him  before  he  reached  Edinburgh, 
and  then  march  as  prisoner  with  the  party.  The  soldier 
added,  "  You  have  known  me  since  I  was  a  child  ;  you  know 
my  country  and  kindred,  and  you  may  believe  I  shall  never 
bring  you  to  any  blame  by  a  breach  of  the  promise  I  now 
make,  to  be  with  you  in  full  time  to  be  delivered  up  in  the 
castle."  This  was  a  startling  proposal  to  the  officer,  who  was 
a  judicious,  humane  man,  and  knew  perfectly  his  risk  and 
responsibility  in  yielding  to  such  an  extraordinary  applica- 
tion. However,  his  confidence  was  such,  that  he  complied 
with  the  request  of  the  prisoner,  who  returned  to  Glasgow 
at  night,  settled  his  business,  and  left  the  town  before  day- 
light to  redeem  his  pledge.  He  took  a  long  circuit  to  avoid 
being  seen,  apprehended  as  a  deserter,  and  sent  back  to 
Glasgow,  as  probably  his  account  of  his  officer's  indulgence 
would  not  have  been  credited.  In  consequence  of  this  cau- 
tion, and  the  lengthened  march  through  the  woods  and 
over  hills,  by  an  unfrequented  route  there  was  no  appearance 
of  him  at  the  hour  appointed.  The  perplexity  of  the  officer, 
when  he  reached  the  neighborhood  of  Edinburgh,  may  be 
easily  imagined.  He  moved  forward  slowly,  indeed,  but  no 
soldier  appeared,  and  unable  to  delay  any  longer,  he  march- 
ed up  to  the  castle,  and  as  he  was  delivering  over  the  pri- 
soners, but  before  any  report  was  given  in,  Macmartin,  the 
absent  soldier  rushed  in  among  his  fellow-prisoners,  all  pale 


THE    MUSEUM.  141 

with  anxiety  and  fatigue,  and  breathless  with  apprehension 
of  the  consequences  in  which  his  delay  might  have  involved 
his  benefactor. 

In  whatever  light  the  conduct  of  the  officer  (my  respect- 
able friend,  Major  Colin  Campbell)  may  be  considered,  either 
by  military  men  or  others,  in  this  memorable  exemplification 
of  the  characteristic  principle  of  his  countrymen,  fidelity  to 
their  word,  it  cannot  but  be  wished  that  the  soldier's  mag- 
nanimous self-devotion  had  been  taken  as-  an  atonement  for 
his  own  misconduct  and  that  of  the  whole.  It  was  not  from 
any  additional  guilt  that  the  man  who  suffered  was  shot. 
It  was  determined  that  only  one  should  suffer,  and  the  four 
were  ordered  to  draw  lots.  The  fatal  chance  fell  upon  Wil- 
liam Sutherland,  who  was  executed  accordingly. — Colonel 
Stewart's  Sketch  of  the  Highlanders. 


THE    SAILOR,    THE    SHOWMAN,    AND    THE    MONKEY. 

THE  Lord  Mayor  of  London  was  interrupted  in  the 
course  of  his  business  at  the  Mansion  House,  in  September, 
1820,  by  a  sailor,  a  showman,  and  a  monkey,  who  arrived 
at  the  justice-room  with  a  great  multitude  behind  them. 

The  monkey  was  making  a  most  hideous  noise,  and  the 
sailor  and  showman,  who  had  been  arguing  in  their  way  to 
the  Mansion  House,  were  so  wholly  absorbed  in  the  sub- 
ject of  dispute,  as  not  to  take  notice  for  some  time  of  the 
authority  presiding.  The  monkey  was  much  more  atten- 
tive to  forms,  and,  as  will  be  presently  seen,  seemed  to  have 
an  impression  that  he  had  got  into  better  company  than  he 
had  been  accustomed  to. 

His  lordship,  having  noticed  the  respectable  demeanor  of 
the  monkey,  called  upon  the  sailor  and  showman  to  follow 
the  example  of  the  animal,  who  at  that  moment  began  to 
play  some  of  the  most  laughable  tricks,  such  as  pulling  the 
showman's  nose,  untying  his  cravat,  dragging  open  his 
waistcoat,  and,  in  fact,  proceeding  to  the  business  of  stiipping 
him.  The  Lord  Mayor  having  desired  that  the  complaint, 
if  there  was  any,  should  be  immediately  stated,  the  sailor 
said  he  and  the  monkey  were  the  injured  persons,  and  the 


142  THE    MTTSET7M. 

showman  was  the  aggressor.  The  sailor  then  said,  tha 
he  went,  into  Gillman  and  Adkin's  exhibition  of  wild  beasts, 
in  Bartholomew  fair;  and  while  he  was  looking  at  the 
curiosities,  he  heard  a  very  shrill  noise  to  which  his  ears 
were  no  strangers.  Upon  looking  to  the  upper  part  of  a 
large  cage,  he  saw  the  monkey,  which  was  now  before  his 
lordship,  in  great  agitation,  and  in  an  instant  he  knew  it  to 
he  his  own  property,  which  he  had  purchased  at  St.  Kitts, 
for  four  or  five  dollars,  and  lost  at  Portsmouth  some  time 
ago.  He  immediately  told  the  keeper  that  tie  was  a  knave 
if  that  monkey  was  not  his  monkey,  and  have  it  he  would. 
The  keeper  refused  to  give  it  up  on  such  authority, 
and  declared  that  his  masters  had  bought  it  fairly  for  a 
pound. 

The  showman  was  by  this  time  in  a  high  passion  with 
the  monkey  who  had  seized  him  with  such  violence  by  the 
nose,  as  to  make  him  roar  out.  The  animal,  which  was 
growing  more  and  more  averse  to  the  control  of  the  keeper, 
held  out  his  paws  to  the  sailor,  and  moaned  in  the  most 
dismal  manner. 

The  Lord  Mayor  said,  the  only  way  for  him  to  decide 
upon  a  case  in  which  there  was  positive  assertion  on  both 
sides,  was  to  leave  the  matter  to  the  monkey  himself.  His 
lordship  directed  that  the  monkey  should  be  placed  upon  the 
table,  and  that  each  party  claiming  him  should  use  his 
powers  of  fascination,  in  order  to  ascertain  to  whom  the 
monkey  was  most  attached. 

The  monkey  was  put  upon  the  table,  but  it  was  nearly 
fatal  to  him  ;  for  a  large  dog  which  had  been  a  constant 
visitor  at  the  Mansion  House,  and  which  had  been  watch- 
ing for  some  time,  made  a  spring  at  him,  and  but  for  the 
sailor,  would  have  probably  decided  the  matter  without 
giving  his  lordship  any  further  trouble. 

The  Lord  Mayor  marked  the  effect  of  this  very  impor- 
tant adventure  upon  the  plaintiff  and  defendant,  and  was 
of  opinion,  that  as  the  greater  concern  was  manifested  on 
the  part  of  the  sailor,  he  was  the  right  master. 

The  monkey  clung  about  the  neck  of  the  sailor,  and 
licked  him,  patted  his  cheeks,  and  caressed  him  in  the  most 
affectionate  manner.  The  Lord  Mayor  desired  the  show 
man  to  take  him  from  the  sailor,  but  the  attempt  exasper 


THE    SAILOR,   THE    SHOWMAN,   AND   THE    MONKEY. 

S«page  143pol.  II. 


THE    MUSETTM.  143 

ated  the  animal  greatly.  The  sailor  said,  that  if  farther 
proof  were  necessary  he  would  give  it. 

The  Lord  Mayor  suggested  that  the  parties  should  issue 
commands  to  the  monkey. 

The  showman  put  a  piece  of  stick  in  the  monkey's  paw, 
and  ordered  him  to  shoulder  arms.  Instead  of  complying 
with  the  order,  the  monkey  struck  the  keeper  on  the  head, 
and  then  threw  it  in  his  face. 

The  sailor  then  called  to  him,  "Jack,  make  a  salaam  to 
his  lordship."  The  monkey  instantly  stood  erect  on  his 
hind  legs,  raised  his  paws  to  the  top  of  his  head,  and  made 
a  low  bow  to  the  Lord  Mayor  in  the  Turkish  style  ;  he 
then  hugged  the  sailor  as  before.  "  If  any  thing  else  is 
necessary,"  said  the  sailor,  "  I'll  do  something  more ;  there 
is  a  hole  in  one  of  his  ears,  which  I  bored  in  St.  Kitts,  for 
it  is  fashionable  for  the  bucks  to  wear  one  ear-ring  there; 
his  left  paw  is  marked  by  a  fishing  hook,  and  part  of  his 
tail  is  bitten  by  a  parrot  that  used  to  quarrel  with  him." 

These  marks  were  observed.  The  Lord  Mayor  advised 
the  showman  to  give  up  all  claim  to  the  monkey.  The 
showman  refused.  The  sailor  refused  to  part  writh  the 
monkey,  and  the  monkey  refused  to  part  with  him.  The 
two  disputants  left  the  office,  the  monkey  about  the  neck  of 
the  sailor. 


SEVERE    JUSTICE    OF    JEHANGIRE,    EMPEROR    OF    THE 
MOGULS. 

THE  excessive  severity  of  this  monarch  in  the  execution 
of  impartial  justice  was  the  great  line  which  marks  the 
features  of  his  character.  He  had  no  respect  to  persons, 
when  he  animadverted  upon  crimes.  His  former  favor  was 
obliterated  at  once  by  guilt ;'  and  he  persevered  with  unde- 
viating  rigor  to  revenge  upon  the  great  the  injuries  done  to 
the  low.  The  story  of  Sief  Alia  remains  as  a  monument 
of  his  savage  justice.  The  sister  of  the  favorite  Sultana  had 
a  son  by  her  husband  Ibrahim,  the  Suba  of  Bengal,  who, 
from  his  tender  years,  had  been  brought  up  by  the  empress, 
and  she,  having  no  sons  by  Jehangire,  adopted  Sief  Alia 


144  THE    MUSETTM. 

for  her  own.  The  emperor  was  fond  of  the  boy ;  he  even 
often  seated  him  on  his  throne.  At  twelve  years  of  age, 
Alia  returned  to  his  father  in  Bengal.  Jehangire  gave  him 
a  letter  to  the  Suba,  with  orders  to  appoint  him  governor  of 
Burd  wan.  Alia,  after  having  resided  in  his  government  some 
years,  had  the  misfortune,  when  he"  was  one  day  riding  on 
an  elephant  through  the  street,  to  tread  by  accident  a  child 
to  death.  The  parents  of  the  child  followed  Alia  to  his 
house.  They  loudly  demanded  an  exemplary  punishment 
on  the  driver;  and  the  governor,  considering  it  as  an  acci- 
dent, refused  their  request,  and  ordered  them  to  be  driven 
away  from  his  door.  They  abused  him  in  very  opprobrious 
terms ;  and  Alia,  proud  of  his  rank  and  family,  expelled 
them  from  the  district  of  Burdwan. 

Jehangire  residing  at  that  time  in  the  city  of  Lahore, 
they  found  their  way,  after  a  long  journey  on  foot,  to  his 
presence.  They  called  aloud  for  justice  ;  and  the  emperor 
wrote  a  letter  to  Alia  with  his  own  hand,  with  peremptory 
orders  to  restore  to  the  injured  parents  of  the  child  their 
possessions,  and  to  make  them  ample  amends  for  their  loss 
and  the  fatigue  of  their  journey.  The  pride  of  Alia  was 
hurt  at  the  victory  gained  over  him  ;  and,  instead  of  obey- 
ing the  orders  of  his  prince,  he  threw  them  into  prison  till 
they  made  submission  to  him  for  their  conduct.  But,  as 
soon  as  they  were  released,  they  travelled  again  to  Lahore. 
Alia  was  alarmed,  and  wrote  letters  to  the  Sultana,  to  pre- 
vent the  petitioners  from  being  admitted  into  the  presence. 
They  hovered  to  no  effect  for  some  months  about  the  pa- 
lace. They  could  not  come  even  within  the  hearing  of  the 
emperor,  till  one  day  that  he  was  taking  his  pleasure  in  a 
barge  upon  the  river.  They  pressed  forward  through  the 
crowd,  and  thrice  called  out  aloud  for  justice.  The  emperor 
heard  them,  and  he  recollected  their  persons.  He  ordered 
the  barge  to  be  rowed  that  instant  to  the  bank;  and  before 
he  inquired  into  the  nature  of  their  complaint,  he  wrote  an 
order  for  them  to  receive  a  pension  for  life  from  the  imperial 
treasury.  When  they  had  explained  their  grievances,  he 
said  not  a  word,  but  he  commanded  Alia  to  appear  imme- 
diately at  Court. 

Alia  obeyed  the  imperial  command  :  but  he  knew  not  the 
intentions  of  Jehangire,  which  that  prince  had  locked  in  his 


THE    MUSEUM.  145 

own  breast.  The  youth  encamped  with  his  retinue,  the  night 
of  his  arrival,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  and  sent  a 
messenger  to  announce  his  coming  to  the  Emperor.  Je- 
hangire  gave  orders  for  one  of  his  elephants  of  state  to  be 
ready  by  the  dawn  of  day  ;  and  he  at  the  same  time  directed 
the  parents  of  the  child  to  attend. 

He  himself  was  up  before  it  was  light,  and  having  crossed 
the  river,  he  came  to  the  camp  of  Alia,  and  commanded  him 
to  be  bound.  The  parents  were  mounted  upon  the  elephant, 
and  the  emperor  ordered  the  driver  to  tread  the  unfortunate 
young  man  to  death.  But  the  driver,  afraid  of  the  resent- 
ment of  the  Sultana,  passed  over  him  several  times,  without 
giving  the  elephant  the  necessary  directions.  The  Emperor, 
however,  by  his  threats,  obliged  him  at  last  to  execute  his 
orders.  He  retired  home  in  silence,  and  issued  his  com- 
mands to  bury  Alia,  with  great  pomp  and  magnificence,  and 
that  the  Court  should  go  into  mourning  for  him  for  the  space 
of  two  moons.  "  1  loved  him,"  said  Jehangire,  "  but  justice, 
like  necessity,  should  bind  Monarchs." 


SINGULAR    FORTUNE    OF    CHAJA    AIASS. 

CHAJA  AIASS  was  a  native  of  the  Western  Tartary,  and 
left  that  country  to  push  his  fortune  in  Indostan.  He  was 
descended  of  an  ancient  and  noble  family,  fallen  into  decay 
by  various  and  accidental  revolutions.  He,  however,  had 
received  a  good  education,  which  was  all  his  parents  could 
bestow.  Falling  in  love  with  a  young  woman,  as  poor  as 
himself,  he  married  her :  but  he  found  it  difficult  to  provide 
for  her  the  necessaries  of  life.  Reduced  to  the  last  extremi- 
ty, he  turned  his  thoughts  upon  India,  the  usual  resource  of 
the  needy  Tartars  of  the  north.  He  left,  privately,  friends, 
who  either  would  not,  or  could  not  assist  him,  and  turned, 
his  face  to  a  foreign  country.  His  all  consisted  of  one  sorry 
horse,  and  a  very  small  sum  of  money,  which  had  proceeded 
from  the  sale  of  his  other  effects.  Placing  his  wife  upon  the 
horse,  he  walked  by  her  side.  She  happened  to  be  with 
child  and  could  ill  endure  the  fatigue  of  so  great  a  journey. 
Their  scanty  pittance  of  money  was  soon  expended ;  they 

35 


146  THE    MUSEUM. 

had  even  subsisted  for  some  days  upon  charity,  when  they 
arrived  at  the  skirts  of  the  Great  Solitudes  which  separate 
Tartary  from  the  dominions  of  the  family  at  Timur  in  In 
dia.  No  house  was  there  to  cover  them  from  the  incle 
mency  of  the  weather;  no  hand  to  relieve  their  wants. 
To  return  was  certain  misery  :  to  proceed  was  apparent  de- 
struction. 

They  had  fasted  three  days :  to  complete  their  misfortune, 
the  wife  of  Aiass  was  taken  in  labor.  She  began  to  reproach 
her  husband  for  leaving  his  native  country  at  an  unfortunate 
hour ;  for  exchanging  a  quiet,  though  poor  life,  for  the  ideal 
prospect  of  wealth  in  a  distant  country.  In  this  distressing 
situation  she  brought  forth  a  daughter.  They  remained  in 
the  place  for  some  hours,  with  a  vain  hope  that  travellers 
might  pass  that  way.  They  were  disappointed.  Human 
feet  seldom  tread  these  deserts :  the  sun  declined  apace. 
They  feared  the  approach  of  night ;  the  place  was  the  haunt 
of  wild  beasts;  and,  should  they  escape  their  hunger,  they 
must  fall  by  their  own.  Chaja  Aiass,  in  this  extremity, 
having  placed  his  wife  on  the  horse,  found  himself  so  much 
exhausted  that  he  could  scarcely  move.  To  carry  the  child 
was  impossible :  the  mother  could  not  even  hold  herself  fast 
on  the  horse.  A  long  contest  began  between  humanity  and 
necessity;  the  latter  prevailed,  and  they  agreed  to  expose 
the  child  on  the  highway.  The  infant,  covered  with  leaves, 
was  placed  under  a  tree ;  and  the  disconsolate  parents  pro- 
ceeded in  tears. 

When  they  had  advanced  about  a  mile  from  the  place, 
and  the  eyes  of  the  mother  could  no  longer  distinguish  the 
solitary  tree,  under  which  she  had  left  her  daughter,  she 
gave  way  to  grief:  and,  throwing  herself  from  the  horse, 
on  the  ground,  exclaimed,  "  my  child  !  my  child  !"  She  en- 
deavored to  raise  herself;  but  she  had  no  strength  to  re- 
turn. Aiass  was  pierced  to  the  heart.  He  prevailed  on  his 
wife  to  sit  down.  He  promised  to  bring  her  the  infant.  He 
arrived  at  the  place.  No  sooner  had  his  eyes  reached  the 
child  than  he  was  almost  struck  dead  with  horror.  A  black 
snake  was  coiled  around  it ;  and  Aiass  believed  he  beheld 
him  extending  his  fatal  jaws  to  devour  the  infant.  The 
father  rushed  forward.  The  serpent,  alarmed  at  his  vocife- 
ration, retired  into  the  follow  tree.  He  took  up  his  daughter 


THE     MT7SETTM.  147 

unhurt,  and  returned  to  the  mother.  He  gave  her  child  into 
her  arms;  and,  as  he  was  informing  her  of  the  wonderful 
escape  of  the  infant,  some  travellers  appeared,  and  soon  re- 
lieved them  of  all  their  wants.  They  proceeded  gradually, 
and  came  to  Lahore  ;  where  Abkar,  the  Emperor  of  the 
Moguls,  at  this  time  kept  his  Court. 

It  happened  that  Asiph  Chan,  one  of  the  Emperor's  prin- 
cipal officers,  attended  then  his  presence.  He  was  a  distant 
relation  to  Aiass,  and  he  received  him  with  attention  and 
friendship.  To  employ  him,  he  made  him  his  own  secreta- 
ry. Aiass  was  soon  recommended  to  Asiph  in  that  station  ; 
and,  by  some  accident,  his  diligence  and  ability  attracted 
the  notice  of  the  Emperor,  who  raised  him  to  the  command 
of  a  thousand  horse.  He  became  in  process  of  time  Mas- 
ter of  the  Household ;  and,  his  genius  being  still  greater 
than  even  his  good  fortune,  he  raised  himself  to  the  office 
and  title  of  Actimad-ul-Dowla,  or  high  treasurer  of  the  em- 
pire. Thus  he,  who  had  almost  perished  through  mere 
want  in  the  desert,  became  in  the  space  of  a  few  years,  the 
first  subject  in  India. 


EXAMPLE   OF   TURKISH    JUSTICE. 

A  GROCER  of  the  city  of  Smyrna  had  a  son,  who  with  the 
help  of  the  little  learning  the  country  could  afford,  rose  to 
the  post  of  naib,  or  deputy  to  the  cadi,  or  mayor  of  that 
city,  and  as  such  visited  the  markets  and  inspected  the 
weights  and  measures  of  all  retail  dealers.  One  day  as 
this  officer  was  going  his  rounds,  the  neighbors,  who  knew 
enough  of  his  father's  character  to  suspect  that  he  might 
stand  in  need  of  the  caution,  advised  him  to  shift  his  weights 
for  fear  of  the  worst ;  but  the  old  cheat,  depending  on  his 
relationship  to  the  inspector,  and  sure,  as  he  thought,  that 
his  son  would  never  expose  him  to  a  public  affront,  laughed 
at  their  advice,  and  stood  very  calmly  at  his  shop  door  wait- 
ing for  his  coming.  The  naib,  however,  was  well  assured 
of  the  dishonesty  and  unfair  dealing  of  his  father,  and  re- 
solved to  detect  his  villainy,  and  make  an  example  of  him. 
Accordingly  he  stopped  at  his  door,  and  said  coolly  to  him, 


148  THE    MUSEUM. 

"  good  man,  fetch  out  your  weights  that  we  may  examine 
them."  Instead  of  obeying,  the  grocer  would  fain  have  put 
it  off  with  a  laugh,  but  was  soon  convinced  his  son  was.se- 
rious,  by  hearing  him  order  the  officers  to  search  his  shop, 
and  seeing  them  produce  the  instruments  of  his  frauds,  which, 
after  an  impartial  examination,  were  openly  condemned  and 
broken  to  pieces.  His  shame  and  confusion,  however,  he 
hoped  would  plead  with  a  son  to  remit  him  all  further  punish- 
ment of  his  crime :  but  even  this,  though  entirely  arbitrary, 
the  naib  made  as  severe  as  for  the  most  indifferent  offender ; 
for  he  sentenced  him  to  a  fine  of  fifty  piastres,  and  to  receive 
a  bastinacle  of  as  many  blows  on  the  soles  of  his  feet.  All 
this  was  executed  upon  the  spot ;  after  which  the  naib,  leap- 
ing from  his  horse,  threw  himself  at  his  feet,  and  watering 
them  with  his  tears,  addressed  him  thus  :  "  Father,  I  have 
discharged  my  duty  to  my  God,  my  sovereign,  my  country, 
and  my  station  ;  permit  me  now,  by  my  respect  and  submis- 
sion, to  acquit  the  debt  I  owe  a  parent.  Justice  is  blind  ;  it 
is  the  power  of  God  on  earth :  it  has  no  regard  to  father  or 
son.  God  and  our  neighbor's  rights  are  above  the  ties  of 
nature.  You  had  offended  against  the  laws  of  justice ;  you 
deserved  this  punishment;  you  would  in  the  end  have  re- 
ceived it  from  some  other :  I  am  sorry  it  was  your  fate  to 
receive  it  from  me.  My  conscience  would  not  suffer  me  to 
act  otherwise.  Behave  better  for  the  future,  and,  instead  of 
blaming,  pity  my  being  reduced  to  so  cruel  a  necessity." 
This  done,  he  mounted  his  horse  again  and  continued  his 
journey,  amidst  the  acclamations  and  praises  of  the  whole 
city  for  so  extraordinary  a  piece  of  justice ;  report  of  which 
being  made  to  the  Sublime  Porte,  the  sultan  advanced  him 
to  the  post  of  cadi,  from  whence  by  degrees  he  rose  to  the 
dignity  of  mufii,  who  is  the  head  both  of  the  religion  and  the 
law  amonsr  the  Turks. 


THE    DOG    OF    MONTARGIS. 


THE  fame  of  an  English  bull-dog  has  been  deservedly 
transmitted  to  posterity  by  a  monument  in  basso-relievo, 
which  still  remains  on  the  chimney-piece  of  the  grand  hall 


THE    MUSEUM.  149 

at  the  castle  of  Montargis,  in  France.  The  sculpture,  which 
represents  a  dog  fighting  with  a  champion,  is  explained  by 
the  following  narrative. 

Auhri  de  Mondidier,  a  gentleman  of  family  and  fortune, 
travelling  alone  through  the  forest  of  Bondi,  was  murdered 
and  buried  under  a  tree.  His  dog,  an  English  bull-dog, 
would  not  quit  his  master's  grave  for  several  days ;  till  at 
length,  compelled  by  hunger,  he  proceeded  to  the  house  of 
an  intimate  friend  of  the  unfortunate  Aubri's,  at  Paris,  and 
by  his  melancholy  howling  seemed  desirous  of  expressing 
the  loss  they  had  both  sustained.  He  repeated  his  cries,  ran 
to  the  door,  looked  back  to  see  if  any  one  followed  him,  re- 
turned to  his  master's  friend,  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve,  and 
with  dumb  eloquence  entreated  him  to  go  with  him. 

The  singularity  of  all  these  actions  of  the  dog,  added  to 
the  circumstance  of  his  coming  there  without  his  master, 
whose  faithful  companion  he  had  always  been,  prompted  the 
company  to  follow  the  animal,  who  conducted  them  to  a 
tree,  where  he  renewed  his  howl,  scratching  the  earth  with 
his  feet,  significantly  entreating  them  to  search  that  particu- 
lar spot.  Accordingly,  on  digging,  the  body  of  the  unhap- 
py Aubri  was  found. 

Some  time  after,  the  dog  accidentally  met  the  assassin  : 
who  is  styled,  by  all  the  historians  that  relate  this  fact,  the 
Chevalier  Macaire ;  when,  instantly  seizing  him  by  the 
throat,  he  was  with  great  difficulty  compelled  to  quit  his 
prey. 

In  short,  whenever  the  dog  saw  the  chevalier,  he  continu- 
ed to  pursue  and  attack  him  with  equal  fury.  Such  obsti- 
nate virulence  in  the  animal,  confined  only  to  Macaire,  ap- 
peared very  extraordinary,  especially  to  those  who  at  once 
recollected  the  dog's  remarkable  attachment  to  his  master, 
and  several  instances  in  which  Macaire's  envy  and  hatred 
to  Aubri  de  Mondidier  had  been  conspicuous. 

Additional  circumstances  increased  suspicion ;  and  at 
length  the  affair  reached  the  royal  ear.  The  king  (Louis 
VIII.)  accordingly  sent  for  the  dog,  who  appeared  extreme- 
ly gentle  till  he  perceived  Macaire  in  the  midst  of  several 
noblemen  ;  when  he  ran  fiercely  towards  him,  growling  at 
and  attacking  him  as  usual. 

In  those  rude  times,  when  no  positive  proof  of  crime  ap- 
35* 


150  THE    MUSEUM. 

peared,  an  order  was  issued  for  a  combat  between  the  accu- 
ser and  the  accused.  These  were  denominated  the  Judg- 
ments of  God,  from  a  persuasion  that  heaven  would  much 
sooner  work  a  miracle  than  suffer  innocence  to  perish  with 
infamy. 

The  king,  struck  with  such  a  collection  of  circumstantial 
evidence  against  Macaire,  determined  to  refer  the  decision  to 
a  chance  of  battle ;  in  other  words,  he  gave  orders  for  a 
combat  between  the  chevalier  and  the  dog.  The  lists 
were  appointed  in  the  Isle  of  Notre  Dame,  then  an  uninclo- 
sed,  uninhabited  place;  Macaire's  weapon  being  a  great 
cudgel. 

The  dog  had  an  empty  cask  allowed  for  his  retreat,  to  en- 
able him  to  recover  breath.  Every  thing  being  prepared, 
the  dog  no  sooner  found  himself  at  liberty,  than  he  ran 
round  his  adversary,  avoiding  his  blows,  and  menacing  him 
on  every  side,  till  his  strength  was  exhausted  ;  then  spring- 
ing forward  he  griped  him  by  the  throat,  threw  him  on  the 
ground,  and  obliged  him  to  confess  his  guilt  in  the  presence 
of  the  king  and  the  whole  court.  In  consequence  of  which, 
the  chevalier  after  a  few  days,  was  convicted  upon  his  own 
acknowledgment,  and  beheaded  on  a  scaffold  in  the  Isle  of 
Notre  Dame. 

The  above  curious  recital  is  translated  from  the  Memoires 
sur  les  Duels,  and  is  confirmed  by  many  judicious  critical 
writers ;  particularly  Julius  Scaliger  and  Montfaucon.  neither 
of  whom  have  been  regarded  as  fabricators  of  idle  stories. 
On  this  narrative  the  melo  drama  of  the  Forest  of  Bondi  is 
founded. 


JOHN    VAN    ALSTINE. 

VAN  ALSTINE  was  born  at  Canajoharie,  Montgomery 
county,  N.  Y.,  in  the  year  1779.  He  was  the  only  son  of 
his  father,  and  on  that  account  was  treated  with  injudicious* 
indulgence.  He  was  a  youth  of  strong  natural  parts,  ambi- 
tious, and  so  active  and  industrious,  that  from  the  age  of 
twelve  years  his  parent  confided  the  management,  of  his  farm 
and  the  chief  control  of  his  affairs  to  him.  His  education 


THE    MUSEUM.  151 

was  such  as  is  usually  given  to  the  sons  of  husbandmen  ,  he 
could  read  and  write,  and  knew  something  of  figures.  In 
1795,  the  family  removed  to  Sharon,  in  Schoharie  county, 
and  the  year  after  the  elder  Van  Alstine  died,  leaving  the 
subject  of  this  memoir,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  to  support  a 
mother  and  three  sisters. 

His  wordly  affairs  prospered  :  his  anxiety  to  acquire  pro- 
perty, stimulated  him  to  uncommon  exertions,  which  were 
crowned  with  success.  He  gained  considerable  money  by 
the  barter  of  petty  articles,  and  finally  became  a  jockey  and 
swapper  of  horses.  In  all  these  matters  he  held  fast  to  his 
integrity,  but  his  desire  of  getting  and  keeping  money  grew 
by  habit  into  a  passion,  which  finally  brought  him  to  an  un- 
timely and  ignominious  death.  Nevertheless,  he  was  fora 
long  time  considered  one  of  the  most  respectable  men  in  the 
neighborhood. 

After  a  courtship  of  five  years,  he  married  a  young  woman 
to  whom  he  was  warmly  attached,  and  whose  character  justi- 
fied his  affection.  Their  harmony  was  never  interrupted, 
and  in  all  crosses  and  afflictions  she  sustained  her  proper 
part;  that  of  a  kind,  tender  and  obliging  helpmate.  One 
affliction  only  had  its  source  in  his  marriage.  Two  years 
after  it  took  place,  a  dispute  arose  between  his  wife  and  the 
other  members  of  his  family.  Van  Alstine  took  part  with 
his  wife,  and  in  consequence  his  mother  and  sisters  left  his 
house.  After  this  event  his  fortune  seemed  to  undergo  a 
change,  and  his  affairs  did  not  prosper  as  before. 

This  change  was  in  some  measure  owing  to  his  peculiar 
character.  He  was,  though  a  man  of  kind  and  warm  feel- 
ings, very  irritable  and  obstinate.  He  was  close  and  prudent 
in  his  affairs,  but  the  poor  man  never  went  away  empty  from 
his  doors.  He  was  easily  moved  by  persuasion,  but  could 
not  be  swayed  in  the  least  by  opposition  or  harshness;  on 
the  contrary  he  became  more  inflexible  as  difficulties  thicken- 
ed around  him.  His  stubbornness  was  so  great  that  when 
engaged  in  law-suits  with  his  neighbors,  he  would  make  any 
sacrifice  rather  than  make  the  slightest  advance  toward  an 
amicable  arrangement.  His  temper,  we  have  said,  was  vio- 
lent, but  he  was  easily  appeased,  and  it  never  caused  him  to 
raise  his  hand  to  strike,  but  in  two  instances.  Once  he  kill- 
ed a  refractory  horse  of  his  own  in  a  moment  of  passion : 


152  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  other  instance  will  presently  come  under  consideration. 
Deliberate  injury  he  never  committed,  unless  when  he  had 
been  previously  wronged.  In  such  cases  he  often  carried 
his  revenge  so  far  as  to  hurt  himself.  His  character  was 
partly  constitutional,  partly  owing  to  the  way  in  which  he 
was  brought  up.  The  only  other  fault  with  which  he  can 
be  charged  was  an  inordinate  fondness  for  horse-racing, 
which  led  him  into  many  troubles.  He  was  so  fond  of  this 
pastime  that  he  would  ride  sixty  miles  to  enjoy  it,  neglecting 
his  business.  This  conduct  brought  embarrassments  on  his 
property,  which  had  become  considerable,  and  these  render- 
ed him  more  irritable  and  morose  than  he  would  otherwise 
have  been.  It  is  painful  to  see  a  man  so  estimable  in  many 
things  so  led  astray  by  passion,  as  to  imbrue  his  hands  in 
the  blood  of  a  fellow  creature. 

In  the  year  1818,  Van  Alstine  was  involved  in  law-suits, 
the  result  of  which  was  that  a  part  of  his  property  was 
advertised  to  be  sold  for  the  benefit  of  one  Horning,  his  cre- 
ditor. At  a  former  sale  of  part  of  his  property  on  a  like  ac- 
count, Van  Alstine,  had  or  thought  he  had  just  cause  of 
complaint  against  William  Huddlestone,  the  sheriff.  On  the 
present  occasion  the  sale  was  appointed  to  take  place  on  the 
19th  of  October,  and  on  that  day  Van  Alstine  remained  in 
his  house  till  the  afternoon,  but  finding  that  no  person  came, 
he  went  into  one  of  his  fields  and  began  to  harrow  it.  While 
he  was  thus  at  work,  four  persons  came  up  on  horseback, 
and  he  went  with  them  to  the  house,  leaving  his  horses  in 
the  field  in  their  harness.  One  of  them  asked  if  there  was 
not  to  be  a  vendue  at  his  house,  and  he  replied,  "Yes, 
they  are  always  having  vendues  ;  but  they  may  sell  and  be 
d — d.  If  they  take  my  property  they  will  be  glad  to  bring 
it  back."  He  also  abused  Mr.  Huddlestone  in  no  measured 
terms.  While  they  were  thus  conversing,  the  unfortunate 
sheriff  rode  up,  and  Van  Alstine  asked  why  he  had  not  come 
before,  as  they  had  been  waiting  for  him.  Mr.  Huddlestone 
said  it  was  time  enough,  and  asked  if  Van  Alstine  had  any 
money  for  him.  He  replied,  "  No,  and  I  don't  want  any." 
The  others  then  rode  off,  leaving  Van  Alstine  and  the  sheriff 
together. 

Mr.  Huddlestone  toid  Van  Alstine  that  the  sale  was  post- 
poned for  a  week,  but  that  he  had  another  execution  against 


THE    MT7SETTM.  153 

him,  and  asked  if  he  could  pay  a  small  sum  on  an  old  one. 
He  answered,  that  perhaps  he  could,  and  Mr.  Huddlestone 
then  proposing  to  give  his  horse  some  oats,  they  went  to  the 
barn  together.  They  had  to  pass  through  a  fence,  and  Van 
Alstine  let  down  the  bars.  While  the  sheriff  was  leading  his 
horse  over,  Van  Alstine,  in  a  jocular  manner,  remarked,  that 
he  would  take  his  own  horse  and  run  away.  Huddlestone 
answered,  that  he  had  better  not,  as  he  should  follow  him. 
Van  Alstine  now  gave  the  horse  some  oats,  and  the  sheriff 
sat  down  on  a  bushel  measure  to  calculate  the  sum  due  on 
the  old  execution,  which  amounted  to  about  eight  dollars. 
Van  Alstine  asked  to  see  the  last  execution,  and  the  sheriff 
showed  it  to  him,  without,  however,  letting  it  go  out  of  his 
hands.  He  then  said,  that  he  had  been  ordered  to  collect 
the  whole  sum  due  on  it,  without  allowing  for  the  payment 
of  sums  for  which  Van  Alstine  held  receipts.  These  words 
put  the  miserable  man  in  an  outrageous  passion,  and  with- 
out the  least  hesitation  he  struck  Huddlestone  a  violent  blow 
with  an  oaken  bar  that  he  held,  and  felled  him  to  the  .floor. 
He  then  repeated  the  blow,  beat  out  one  eye,  and  fractured 
the  skull  of  his  victim.  The  weapon  was  a  heavy  one,  be- 
ing the  bar  used  to  fasten  the  barn  doors. 

Compunction  succeeded  anger ;  he  dropped  his  club,  and 
at  the  same  moment  perceived  his  two  sons  coming  toward 
him.  Thinking  they  had  seen  something,  he  jerked  the 
body  into  the  barn  by  the  foot,  and  ran  to  meet  and  prevent 
them  from  coming  nigh.  Having  sent  them  a^vay  on  other 
errands,  he  returned,  dragged  the  corpse  of  his  victim  into 
a  corner  of  the  barn,  and  covered  it  with  straw.  Then  to 
divert  suspicion,  he  busied  himself  in  chopping  wood,  all 
the  while  resolving  in  his  mind  the  means  of  concealing  the 
body.  Had  he  dug  a  grave  in  the  green  sod,  it  would  have 
attracted  immediate  notice,  and  he  therefore  determined  to 
bury  Huddlestone  in  the  ploughed  field  he  had  been  harrow- 
ing. Having  formed  this  resolution,  he  went  home  to  sup, 
and  await  the  darkness. 

It  was  a  bright  moonlight  night,  and  as  the  homicide  was 
executing  his  purpose,  conscience  raised  up  a  thousand  wit- 
nesses of  his  doings.  After  digging  the  grave  he  went  to 
the  barn,  took  what  money  was  in  the  pockets  of  the  de- 
ceased, and  shouldered  the  body.  He  carried  it  by  a  round- 


154  THE    MTJSEtTM. 

about  way  to  the  grave,  to  avoid  being  seen,  a  distance  of 
four  hundred  yards,  without  once  stopping.  On  the  way  he 
was  obliged  to  climb  over  a  fence  with  his  load  on  his  shoul- 
der. At  every  sound  he  fancied  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  a 
pursuer.  He  then  took  off  his  victim's  boots,  threw  him 
into  the  hole,  and  covered  him  up.  He  hid  the  boots  under 
a  stone,  and  an  inkstand  that  had  been  in  Huddlestone's 
pocket,  under  a  fence.  All  the  bills  he  had  taken,  excepting 
a  three  dollar  note,  he  put  into  a  stump,  where  they  were  af- 
terwards found,  nibbled  by  mice.  Nothing  now  remained 
but  to  dispose  of  the  sheriff's  horse,  and  had  he  attended  to 
this  on  the  same  night,  he  might  have  escaped  detection. 
Instead  of  so  doing,  he  went  home  and  went  to  bed. 

He  rose  in  the  morning  at  day-break,  and  rode  the  horse 
about  half  a  mile  from  his  house  to  a  bridge,  under  which 
he  hid  the  saddle.  He  next  took  the  animal  into  a  swamp, 
and  tied  him  to  a  sapling,  returned,  and  harrowed  over  the 
grave.  He  also  endeavored  to  efface  the  stains  of  blood 
from  the  fence  over  which  he  had  climbed.  A  little  before 
sunset  he  went  and  loosened  the  horse  which  ran  half  a  mile 
before  he  could  lay  hands  on  him  again.  Just  as  he  had 
caught  the  horse,  lie  saw  that  he  was  observed  by  a  woman, 
and  putting  a  bold  face  on  the  matter,  he  led  the  animal  di- 
rectly toward  her.  After  this  he  hid  the  horse  at  different 
times  in  different  places. 

When  Huddlestone  was  missed,  suspicion  fell  upon  Van 
Alstine.  He  had  passed  the  bill  he  took  from  the  deceased, 
and  it  was  observed  to  be  stained  with  blood.  On  the  six- 
teenth of  the  month,  conversing  with  a  neighbor  on  the  sub- 
ject he  declared  his  belief  that  the  sheriff  had  absconded 
with  the  money  he  had  collected.  He  said  it  had  been  inti- 
mated to  him  that  he  had  killed  Huddlestone,  that  he  had 
received  the  bill  before  mentioned  from  a  friend  whom  he 
could  produce,  if  that  would  give  any  satisfaction.  Having 
learned  that  a  search  for  the  body  was  to  be  made  the  next 
day,  he  went  and  hid  Huddlestone's  horse  in  what  he  thought 
a  safe  place  in  the  woods,  and  returned  home.  He  went  to 
bed  without  any  intention  of  escaping. 

He  awoke  about  midnight,  and  his  wife  observed  that  he 
had  been  speaking  about  removing,  and  if  he  chose  to  go 
and  look  for  a  place,  she  was  willing,  and  would  take  good 


THE    MUSEUM  155 

care  of  his  affairs  in  his  absence.  He  asked  her  why  she 
spoke  in  this  manner,  and  she  answered,  that  every  thing 
seemed  to  turn  against  him.  He  demanded  to  know  if  she 
believed  him  guilty  of  the  murder.  She  replied  that  she  did 
not  know.  Guilty  as  he  was,  Van  Alstine  could  not  bear  to 
lower  himself  in  this  affectionate  woman's  esteem  by  ac- 
knowledging his  crime.  He  said  he  should  probably  be  ap- 
prehended the  next  day  on  suspicion,  and  that  he  would  as 
lief  be  in  hell  as  in  jail.  He  added,  however,  that  if  he  took 
to  flight  suspicion  would  be  stronger.  Finding  that  she 
wished  him  to  escape,  he  arose,  carried  a  saddle  to  Huddle- 
stone's  horse,  and  took  the  road  to  Canada. 

The  search  took  place  the  next  day,  and  the  body  was 
found,  as  well  as  the  bills  and  other  articles  Van  Alstine 
had  secreted.  Blood  was  observed  on  the  fence  and  in  the 
barn  where  the  murder  hail  been  perpetrated. 

The  homicide  reached  Kingston,  in  Canada,  in  safety, 
passing  by  the  name  of  John  Allen.  Here  he  fell  in  with 
one  Page,  who  showed  him  a  proclamation  offering  a  re- 
ward for  his  apprehension.  Thence  he  went  to  Buffalo  and 
embarked  on  board  a  schooner,  intending  to  proceed  to  San- 
dusky  or  some  other  remote  town  in  the  western  states. 
Opposite  Long  Point  a  head  wind  compelled  the  vessel  to 
anchor,  and  increased  in  violence  till  she  parted  her  cable. 
There  was  a  passenger  on  board  named  Slocum,  who  com- 
pared Van  Alstine's  person  with  the  description  in  the  go- 
vernor's proclamation,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
was  the  fugitive  indicated.  As  soon  as  the  schooner  reached 
the  shore,  which  she  did  at  Black  Rock,  Slocum  caused  him 
to  be  arrested  and  lodged  in  Buffalo  jail.  He  persisted  in 
calling  himself  Allen  till  he  was  identified  by  a  person  who 
had  seen  him  before.  He  then  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  con- 
cealment, and  was  conveyed  to  Schoharie. 

He  avowed  that  when  apprehended  at  Buffalo  he  was 
strongly  tempted  to  commit  suicide,  and  went  so  far  as  to 
attempt  to  strangle  himself  with  his  neckcloth.  He  thought 
more  than  once  on  the  road  to  Schoharie  of  throwing  himself 
headlong  out  of  the  carriage,  but  the  thoughts  of  what  must 
be  the  punishment  to  such  a  crime  in  the  next  world  detejc- 
red  him. 

On  the  16th  of  November  he  was  arraigned,  and  plead- 


156  THE    MUSEUM. 

ed  not  guilty.  It  was  proved  that  the  spectacle  case  ol 
Huddlestone  was  found  in  the  straw  where  his  body  had 
lain  :  and  that  Van  Alstine  had  pretended  to  have  paid  the 
executions  against  him,  wishing  to  make  it  appear  that  the 
sheriff'  had  absconded  with  the  money.  It  appeared  too  in 
evidence  that  he  had  made  use  of  ambiguous  expressions 
touching  the  intended  sale  of  his  property,  which  were  now 
construed  unfavorably  for  him.  The  fact  of  his  having  fled 
on  Huddlestone's  horse  was  also  clearly  established.  His 
guilt  was  made  apparent  by  other  incontestable  evidence, 
and  the  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty.  The  chief  jus- 
tice then  asked  him  if  he  had  any  reason  to  offer  why  sen- 
tence of  death  should  not  be  pronounced,  and  he  replied  that 
he  had  none.  Sentence  was  then  rendered. 

The  suggestions  of  avarice  and  passion  had  not  been 
able  to  eradicate  the  good  principles  in  which  the  unhappy 
man  had  been  educated.  His  penitence  was  as  singular  as 
his  guilt. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  by  referring  his  burden  of  sin  to  him 
most  able  to  bear  it,  he  made  an  acceptable  atonement.  He 
was  executed  pursuant  to  his  sentence. 


HUMANE    ANECDOTE    OF    LORD    CORNWALLIS.* 

DURING  the  memorable  siege  of  Yorktown,  in  Virginia, 
various  were  the  shocking  spectacles  which  daily  presented 
themselves  to  the  view  of  those  persons  who  were  neces- 
sarily confined  within  the  contracted  limits  of  the  British 
lines.  In  the  course  of  that  tremendous  and  incessant  can- 
nonade and  bombardment,  which  was  kept  up  by  the  be- 
siegers for  nearly  two  weeks,  scarcely  a  single  incident  oc- 
curred which  was  better  calculated  to  fill  the  mind  with  hor- 
ror and  anguish,  than  that  which  gave  rise  to  the  following 
anecdote. 

One  of  the  shells  thrown  from  a  battery  of  the  allied  ar- 
my, in  its  descent  pierced  the  roof  and  penetrated  the  floors 

*  From  a  gentleman  who  was  on  the  spot,  and  well  acquainted  with  tlie 
circumstances. 


THE    MtTSETTM.  157 

of  a  dwelling  house  situated  on  the  beach  :  in  a  few  moments 
it  burst  in  the  cellar  with  a  great  explosion,  by  which  cir- 
cumstance the  house  was  materially  injured,  and  an  unfor- 
tunate woman,  who  was  sitting  in  a  front  room,  with  her 
infant  about  ten  months  old,  fondly  clasped  in  her  arms, 
were  together  propelled  several  yards  into  the  street.  Some 
little  time  afterwards,  Lord  Cornwallis,  (the  commander  of 
the  post,)  taking  one  of  his  usual  walks  around  the  lines,  at- 
tended by  several  officers  of  the  garrison,  happened  to  pass 
that  way :  he  observed  the  mother  extended,  void  of  life, 
upon  the  ground,  while  the  infant,  unhurt,  and  ignorant  of 
the  loss  which  it  had  sustained,  appeared  drawing  from  the 
breast  of  the  lifeless  corpse,  its  wonted  nourishment.  Shocked 
to  an  extreme  with  so  uncommon  an  instance  of  the  direful 
effects  of  war,  his  Lordship,  after  ordering  the  deceased  to  be 
decently  interred  at  his  expense,  despatched  a  messenger  to 
a  poor  widow,  who  was  the  mother  of  several  children,  and 
who  was  remarkable  for  her  kind  and  affectionate  disposition. 
On  her  presenting  herself,  he  related  to  her  the  accident 
which  had  happened,  and  expressed  his  desire  that  she  would 
take  the  unfortunate  orphan  in  charge,  nurse  it  with  the 
tenderness,  and  educate  it  with  all  the  care  of  a  parent;  to 
Shis  she  readily  agreed  ;  when  his  lordship  took  from  his 
purse  and  gave  her  twenty  guineas,  and  ordered  her  several 
necessary  articles,  as  well  for  her  own  use  as  for  the  use  of  her 
adopted  son.  This  example  of  munificence  in  the  Earl,  was 
soon  imitated  by  numbers  who  heard  the  melancholy  tale  ; 
by  whose  united  liberal  contribution,  the  woman  with  her 
family  were  enabled,  with  prudence  and  economy,  to  live  in 
a  very  comfortable  style  in  Virginia,  after  the  surrender  of 
the  British  army  to  the  combined  forces  of  France  and 
America. — New  York  Magazine. 


THE    MERCHANT    AND    HIS    DOG. 

A  FRENCH  merchant,  having  some  money  due  from  a 
correspondent,  set  out  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  his  dog 
on  purpose  to  receive  it.  Having  settled  the  business  to  his 
satisfaction,  he  tied  the  bag  of  money  before  him,  and  began 

36 


158  THE    MUSEUM. 

to  return  home.  His  faithful  dog,  as  if  he  entered  into  his 
master's  feelings,  frisked  round  the  horse,  barked,  and  jump- 
ed, and  seemed  to  participate  in  his  joy. 

The  merchant,  after  riding  some  miles,  alighted  to  repose 
himself  under  an  agreeable  shade,  and  taking  the  bag  of 
money  in  his  hand,  laid  it  down  by  his  side  under  a  hedge, 
and,  on  remounting,  forgot  it.  The  dog  perceived  his  lapse 
of  recollection,  and  wishing  to  rectify  it,  ran  to  fetch  the 
bag,  but  it  was  too  heavy  for  him  to  drag  along.  He  then 
ran  to  his  master,  and,  by  crying,  barking,  and  howling, 
endeavored  to  remind  him  of  his  loss.  The  merchant  un- 
derstood not  his  language  ;  but  the  assiduous  creature  per- 
severed in  its  efforts,  and,  after  trying  in  vain  to  stop  the, 
horse,  at  last  began  to  bite  its  heels.  The  merchant  ab- 
sorbed in  some  reverie,  wholly  overlooked  the  real  object 
of  his  affectionate  attendant's  importunity,  but  waked  to  the 
alarming  apprehension  that  he  was  gone  mad.  Full  of  this 
suspicion,  in  crossing  a  brook,  he  turned  back  to  look  if  the 
dog  would  drink.  The  animal  was  too  intent  on  his  mas- 
ter's business  to  think  of  itself;  it  continued  to  bark  and 
bite  with  greater  violence  than  before. 

"  Mercy  !"  cried  the  afflicted  merchant,  "  it  must  be  so — 
my  poor  dog  is  certainly  mad  :  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  must  kill 
him,  lest  some  greater  misfortune  befal  me  ;  but  with  what 
regret !  Oh,  could  1  find  any  one  to  perform  this  cruel  of- 
fice for  me  !  but  there  is  no  time  to  lose ;  I  myself  may  be- 
come the  victim,  if  I  spare  him." 

With  these  words,  he  drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket,  and, 
with  a  trembling  hand,  took  aim  at  his  faithful  servant.  He 
turned  away  with  agony  as  he  fired,  but  his  aim  was  too 
sure.  The  poor  animal  falls  wounded  ;  and,  weltering  in  his 
blood,  still  endeavors  to  crawl  towards  his  master,  as  if  to  tax 
him  with  ingratitude.  The  merchant  could  not  bear  the 
sight ;  he  spurred  on  his  horse  with  a  heart  full  of  sorrow, 
and  lamented  he  had  taken  a  journey  which  had  cost  him 
so  dear.  Still,  however,  the  money  never  entered  his  mind ; 
he  only  thought  of  his  poor  dog,  and  tried  to  console  himself 
with  the  reflection,  that  he  had  prevented  a  greater  evil,  by 
despatching  a  mad  animal,  than  he  had  suffered  a  calamity 
by  his  loss.  This  opiate  to  his  wounded  spirit  was  inefiectu 
al.  "  I  am  most  unfortunate,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  had 


THE     MUSETTM.  159 

almost  rather  have  lost  my  money  than  my  dog."  Saying  this, 
he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  grasp  his  treasure.  It  was  miss- 
ing, no  bag  was  to  be  found.  In  an  instant  he  opened  bis 
eyes  to  his  rashness  and  folly.  "  Wretch  that  I  am  !  I  am 
alone  to  blame !  1  could  not  comprehend  the  admonition 
which  my  innocent  and  most  faithful  friend  gave  me,  and  I 
have  sacrificed  him  for  his  zeal.  He  only  wished  to  inform 
me  of  my  mistake,  and  he  has  paid  for  his  fidelity  with 
life." 

Instantly  he  turned  his  horse,  and  went  off  at  full  gallop  to 
the  place  where  he  had  stopped.  He  saw,  with  half  averted 
eyes  the  scene  where  the  tragedy  was  acted  ;  he  perceived 
the  traces  of  blood  as  he  proceeded  ;  he  was  oppressed  and 
distracted :  but  in  vain  did  he  look  for  his  dog — he  was  not 
to  be  seen  on  the  road.  At  last  he  arrived  at  the  spot  where 
he  had  alighted.  But  what  were  his  sensations  !  His  heart 
was  ready  to  bleed  ;  he  cursed  himself  in  the  madness  of  des- 
pair. The  poor  dog,  unable  to  follow  his  dear  but  cruel  mas- 
ter, had  determined  to  consecrate  his  last  moments  to  his  ser- 
vice. He  had  crawled,  all  bloody  as  he  was,  to  the  forgotten 
bag,  and  in  the  agonies  of  death  he  lay  watching  beside  it. 
When  he  saw  his  master,  he  still  testified  his  joy  by  the  wag- 
ging of  his  tail — he  could  do  no  more — he  tried  to  rise,  but  his 
strength  was  gone  !  The  vital  tide  was  ebbing  fast ;  even  the 
caresses  of  his  master  could  not  prolong  his  fate  for  a  few 
moments.  He  stretched  out  his  tongue  to  lick  the  hand  that 
was  now  fondling  him  in  the  agonies  of  regret,  as  if  to  seal 
forgiveness  for  the  deed  that  had  deprived  him  of  life.  He 
then  cast  a  look  of  kindness  on  his  master,  and  closed  his  eyes 
forever. 


SINGULAR    INTREPIDITY    IN    A    BRITISH    OFFICER. 

A  SINGULAR  instance  of  intrepidity  took  place  at  Agoda, 
near  Goa,  in  the  East  Indies,  on  the  21st  of  March,  1809. 
Early  in  the  morning,  a  report  was  received  in  the  canton- 
ments, that  a  large  tiger  had  been  seen  on  the  rocks  near  the 
sea.  About  nine  o'clock,  a  number  of  officers  and  men  as- 
sembled at  the  spot  where  it  had  been  seen,  when,  after 


160  THE    MUSEUM. 

some  search,  the  animal  was  discovered  in  the  recess  of  an 
immense  rock ;  dogs  were  sent  in,  in  hopes  of  starting 
him,  but  without  effect ;  they  having  returned  with  several 
wounds. 

Lieutenant  Evan  Davis,  of  the  7th  regiment,  attempted  to 
enter  the  den,  but  was  obliged  to  return,  rinding  the  passage 
extremely  narrow  and  dark.  He,  however,  attempted  a  se- 
cond time,  with  a  pick-axe  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  re- 
moved some  obstructions  that  were  in  the  way,  and  having 
proceeded  a  few  yards,  he  heard  a  noise  which  he  conceived 
to  be  that  of  the  animal  in  question.  He  then  returned,  and 
communicated  this  to  Lieutenant  Threw  of  the  artillery, 
who  also  went  in  the  same  distance,  and  was  of  a  similar 
opinion.  What  course  to  pursue  was  doubtful;  some  pro- 
posed to  blow  up  the  rock,  others  to  smoke  him  out.  At 
length  a  port-fire  was  tied  to  the  end  of  a  bamboo,  and  intro- 
duced into  a  small  crevice  which  led  towards  the  den.  Lieu- 
tenant Davis  went  on  his  hands  and  knees  down  the  narrow 
passage,  (which  he  accomplished  with  imminent  danger  to 
himself,)  and  by  the  light  was  enabled  to  discover  the  animal ; 
having  returned,  he  said  he  could  kill  him  with  a  pistol ; 
which  being  procured,  he  entered  again,  and  fired,  but  with- 
out success,  owing  to  the  awkward  situation  he  was  then 
placed  in,  with  his  left  hand  only  at  liberty.  He  went  back 
with  a  musket  and  bayonet,  and  wounded  him  in  the  loins, 
but  was  obliged  to  retreat  as  quick  as  the  narrow  passage 
would  admit,  the  tiger  having  forced  the  musket  back  to- 
wards the  mouth  of  the  den.  He  then  procured  a  rifle  with 
which  he  again  forced  his  way  into  the  place,  and  taking  a 
deliberate  aim  at  the  animal's  head,  fired,  and  put  an  end  to 
its  existence. 

Another  difficulty  now  presented  itself;  how  to  get  it  out 
required  some  consideration.  Ropes  were  procured,  but  every 
attempt  to  reach  it  proved  fruitless,  till  Lieut.  Davis,  with  a 
pick-axe  in  his  hand,  cut  his  way  into  the  den,  and  got  suf- 
ficiently near  to  fasten  a  strong  rope  round  its  neck  by  which 
it  was  dragged  out,  to  the  no  small  satisfaction  of  a  numerous 
crowd  of  anxious  spectators. 

It  measured  seven  feet  and  a  half  from  the  nose  to  the  tail 


THE    MUSEUM.  161 


REMARKABLE    COMBAT   AND   ESCAPE  FROM    DEATH. 

THE  following  example  of  escape  from  apparently  inevita- 
ble death,  is  so  singular,  that  it  deserves  to  be  recorded,  and 
cannot  but  be  acceptable  to  our  readers. 

"  In  the  attack  on  Manilla,  by  Sir  William  Draper,  in  the 
year  1762,  Captain  Richard  Bishop,  of  the  marines,  greatly 
distinguished  himself  by  his  intrepidity  and  professional 
knowledge  ;  in  consequence  of  which  he  was  by  that  gene- 
ral made  governor  of  the  town  and  fort  of  Cavite,  the  princi- 
pal port  in  the  island  of  Luconia.  At  this  time  there  was 
in  the  neighborhood  a  Malay,  of  extraordinary  bulk  and 
strength,  and  of  the  most  ferocious  disposition,  who  had  for- 
merly worked  in  the  dock  yard,  but  had  deserted  ;  and  hav- 
ing collected  nearly  a  hundred  men  of  like  characters  with 
himself,  committed  every  species  of  lawless  violence  on  the 
persons  and  property  of  the  peaceable  inhabitants.  For  the 
apprehension  of  this  man  Captain  Bishop  had  long  offered 
considerable  rewards,  but  without  effect ;  when  one  day  ri- 
ding out  with  a  brother  officer,  attended  by  about  forty  men, 
he  saw  this  desperado,  armed  with  a  carbine,  a  brace  of 
pistols,  a  scimetar,  and  a  dagger,  issue  out  of  a  wood  at  a 
short  distance,  at  the  head  of  his  troop.  Instigated  by  a  sud- 
den emotion  of  resentment,  Bishop  determined  to  inflict  on 
this  man  the  just  punishment  of  his  offences ;  but  being  him- 
self without  weapons,  he  borrowed  a  pistol  from  the  holsters  of 
the  officer  who  accompanied  him.  Thus  provided  he  gal- 
loped up  to  the  Malay,  and  presented  the  pistol  to  his  head. 
The  Malay  and  his  followers,  confounded  at  this  bold  act  of 
a  single  man,  offered  no  resistance.  The  pistol  missed  fire, 
on  which  Bishop,  striking  the  Malay  with  it  a  violent  blow 
on  the  head,  knocked  him  off  his  horse:  in  the  meanwhile, 
the  English  troop,  hastening  to  the  assistance  of  their  lead- 
er, and  concluding  him  to  be  fully  equal  to  cope  with  his 
fallen  antagonist,  pursued  the  banditti,  who  immediately 
fled,  and  both  parties  were  soon  out  of  sight.  All  this 
was  the  work  only  of  a  few  seconds  ;  during  which  Bishop, 
seeing  the  Malay  stunned  on  the  ground,  alighted  in  order 
to  secure  him,  or  if  necessary,  kill  him  with  one  of  his  own 
weapons.  No  sooner,  however,  was  he  off  his  horse,  than 

36* 


162  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  Malay  was  on  his  feet,  and  began  a  desperate  struggle 
with  his  rash  assailant.  It  was  the  business  of  the  former 
merely  to  employ  his  own  offensive  weapons  ;  the  latter  had 
the  double  necessity  of  defeating  their  use,  and  applying 
them  to  his  own  use  and  advantage.  The  Malay  was  singu- 
larly strong  and  active,  inured  to  hard  labour,  and  exerting 
himself  in  his  own  native  climate  ;  the  Englishman  of  much 
less  muscular  force,  and  that  reduced  by  long  privations,  and 
by  the  influence  of  excessive  heat ;  but  the  disparity  was  in 
a  considerable  degree  compensated  by  the  energy  of  an  in- 
vincible mind.  This  contest  for  life  continued  for  almost  an 
hour,  when  at  length  Bishop,  almost  fainting  with  fatigue, 
was  thrown  on  his  back,  and  the  Malay,  kneeling  on  him, 
drew  his  dagger,  and  with  all  his  force,  aimed  at  his  breast 
the  fatal  blow.  At  that  moment  Bishop,  exerting  his  last  re- 
mains of  strength,  with  both  hands  averted  the  point  of  the 
dagger  as  it  descended,  and  changing  its  direction,  drove  it 
upwards  into  the  throat  of  the  ferocious  Malay,  who  imme- 
diately fell  down  dead  upon  him. 

"  Bishop,  unable  to  walk,  crawled  on  his  hands  and  knees 
to  his  horse,  which  he  found  grazing  at  the  distance  of  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  near  the  spot  where  the  contest  first  be- 
gan. He  mounted  with  difficulty,  and  was  soon  afterwards 
happily  joined  by  his  friends,  who  had  chased  their  oppo- 
nents into  some  dangerous  passes,  and  returned  not  without 
solicitude  for  the  fate  of  their  courageous  commander,  whom 
*hey  had  so  long  left. 

"  The  victor  carried  away  the  spoils  of  the  enemy,  part  of 
which  was  the  fatal  dagger  and  the  scimetar.  Looking  to 
the  subsequent  history  of  this  gallant  officer,  we  learn  with 
deep  regret  that  he  was  lost  on  board  his  majesty's  ship  the 
Thunderer,  commanded  by  Commodore  Walsingham,  in 
*he  great  hurricane  which  occurred  in  the  West  Indies  in  the 
/ear  1780." 


THE    MUSEUM.  163 


STRIA  L  FOR  MURDER  ON  THE  PRETENDED  INFORMATION 
OF  A  GHOST. 

ABOUT  a  century  ago,  a  farmer,  on  his  return  from  the 
market  of  Southam,  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  was  murder- 
ed. A  man  went  next  morning  to  his  wife,  and  inquired  if 
her  husband  came  home  the  evening  before ;  she  replied  no, 
and  that  she  was  under  the  utmost  anxiety  and  terror  on  that 
account.  "  Your  terror,"  said  he,  "  cannot  equal  mine ;  for, 
last  night,  as  I  lay  in  bed  quite  awake,  the  apparition  of 
your  husband  appeared  to  me,  showed  me  several  ghastly 
stabs  in  his  body,  told  me  he  had  been  murdered  by  such  a 
person,  and  his  carcass  thrown  into  such  a  marl-pit." 

The  alarm  was  given,  the  pit  searched,  the  body  found, 
and  the  wounds  answered  the  description  of  them.  The 
man  whom  the  ghost  accused,  was  apprehended,  and  com- 
mitted on  a  violent  suspicion  of  murder.  His  trial  came  on 
at  Warwick,  before  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  Raymond,  when 
the  jury  would  have  convicted  as  rashly  as  the  justice  of  the 
peace  had  committed  him,  had  not  the  judge  checked  them. 
He  addressed  himself  to  them  in  words  to  this  effect : — "  I 
think,  gentlemen,  you  seem  inclined  to  lay  more  stress  on 
the  evidence  of  an  apparition  than  it  will  bear.  I  cannot 
say  that  I  give  much  credit  to  these  kind  of  stories ;  but,  be 
that  as  it  may,  we  have  no  right  to  follow  our  own  private 
opinions  here:  we  are  now  in  a  court  of  law,  and  must  de- 
termine according  to  it ;  and  I  know  not  of  any  law  now 
in  being  which  will  admit  of  the  testimony  of  an  apparition  ; 
nor  yet  if  it  did,  doth  the  ghost  appear  to  give  evidence." 
"  Crier,"  said  he,  "  call  the  ghost !"  which  was  thrice  done  to 
no  manner  of  purpose.  "  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  continued 
the  judge,  "  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  as  you  have  heard  by 
undeniable  witnesses,  is  a  man  of  the  most  unblemished 
character ;  nor  hath  it  appeared  in  the  course  of  the  exami- 
nation, that  there  was  any  manner  of  quarrel  or  grudge  be- 
tween him  and  the  party  deceased.  I  do  verily  believe  him  to 
be  perfectly  innocent ;  and  as  there  is  no  evidence  against  him, 
either  positive  or  circumstantial,  he  must  be  acquitted.  But 
from  many  circumstances  which  have  arisen  during  the  trial, 
I  do  strongly  suspect  that  the  gentleman  who  saw  the  appa- 


164  THE     MUSEUM. 

rition  was  himself  the  murderer ;  in  which  case  he  might 
easily  ascertain  the  pit,  the  stabs,  &c.,  without  any  super- 
natural assistance;  and  on  such  suspicion  I  shall  think  my- 
self justified  in  committing  him  to  close  custody  till  the  mat- 
ter can  be  further  inquired  into."  This  was  immediately 
done,  and  the  warrant  granted  for  searching  his  house, 
when  such  strong  proofs  of  guilt  appeared  against  him, 
that  he  confessed  the  murder,  and  was  executed  at  the  next 
assizes. 


GENEROSITY    OP    M.  DE  SALLO. 

IN  the  year  1662,  (when  Paris  was  afflicted  with  a  long 
and  severe  famine,)  M.  de  Sallo,  returning  from  a  summer's 
evening  walk,  with  only  a  little  foot  boy,  was  accosted  by  a 
man,  who  presented  his  pistol,  and  in  a  manner  far  from  the 
resoluteness  of  a  hardened  robber,  asked  him  for  his  money. 
M.  de  Sallo  observing  that  he  came  to  the  wrong  man,  and 
that  he  could  get  little  from  him,  added,  "  I  have  only  three 
louis  d'ors  about  me,  which  are  not  worth  a  scuffle,  so  much 
good  may  they  do  you  ;  but  let  me  tell  you,  you  are  in  a 
bad  way."  The  man  took  them,  without  asking  for  more, 
and  walked  off  with  an  air  of  dejection  and  terror.  The  fel- 
low was  no  sooner  gone,  than  M.  de  Sallo  ordered  the  boy 
to  follow  him,  to  see  where  he  went,  and  to  give  him  an  ac- 
count of  every  thing.  The  lad  obeyed  ;  followed  him  through 
several  obscure  streets,  and  at  length  saw  him  enter  a  baker's 
shop,  where  he  observed  him  change  one  of  the  louis,  and 
buy  a  large  brown  loaf.  With  this  purchase  he  went  a  few 
doors  farther,  and  entering  an  alley,  ascended  a  pair  of  stairs. 
The  boy  crept  up  after  him  to  the  fourth  story,  where  he 
saw  him  go  into  a  room  that  had  no  other  light  but  that  it 
received  from  the  moon,  and  peeping  through  a  crevice,  he 
perceived  him  throw  it  on  the  floor,  and  burst  into  tears,  say- 
ing, "  There,  eat  your  fill,  there's  the  dearest  loaf  I  ever 
bought. :  I  have  robbed  a  gentleman  of  three  louis  ;  let  us 
husband  them  well,  and  let  me  have  no  more  teasings,  for 
sooner  or  later  these  doing  must  bring  me  to  the  gallows,  and 
all  to  satisfy  your  clamors."  His  lamentations  were  answer- 


THE    MUSEUM.  165 

ed  by  those  of  the  whole  family ;  and  his  wife  having  at 
length  calmed  the  agony  of  his  mind,  took  up  the  loaf,  and 
cutting  it,  gave  four  pieces  to  four  poor  starving  children. 
The  boy  having  thus  happily  performed  his  commission,  re- 
turned home,  and  gave  his  master  an  account  of  every  thing 
he  had  seen  and  heard.  M.  de  Sallo,  who  was  much  moved, 
ordered  the  boy  to  call  him  at  five  in  the  morning.  This 
humane  gentleman  arose  at  the  time  appointed,  and  taking 
the  boy  with  him,  to  show  him  the  way,  inquired  in  the 
neighborhood  the  character  of  a  man,  who  lived  in  such  a 
garret  with  a  wife  and  four  children ;  when  he  was  told,  that 
he  was  a  very  industrious,  good  kind  of  a  man  ;  that  he  was 
a  shoemaker  and  a  neat  workman,  but  was  overburdened 
with  a  family,  and  had  a  hard  struggle  to  live  in  such  bad 
times.  Satisfied  with  this  account,  M.  de  Sallo  ascended  the 
shoemaker's  garret,  and  knocking  at  the  door,  it  was  open- 
ed by  the  poor  man  himself,  who  knowing  him  at  first  sight 
to  be  the  person  he  had  robbed  the  evening  before,  fell  at  his 
feet,  and  implored  his  mercy,  pleading  the  extreme  distress 
of  his  family,  and  begging  he  would  forgive  his  first  crime. 
M.  de  Sallo  desired  jiim  to  make  no  noise,  for  he  had  not 
the  least  intention  to  hurt  him.  "  You  have  a  good  charac- 
ter among  your  neighbors,"  said  he,  "  but  must  expect  that 
your  life  will  soon  be  cut  short,  if  you  are  now  so  wicked 
as  to  continue  the  freedoms  you  took  with  me.  Hold  your 
hand,  there  are  thirty  louis  to  buy  leather,  husband  it  well, 
and  set  your  children  a  commendable  example.  To  put 
you  out  of  farther  temptations  to  commit  such  ruinous 
and  fatal  actions,  I  will  encourage  your  industry  :  I  hear 
you  are  a  neat  workman,  you  shall  take  measure  of  me,  and 
of  this  boy,  for  two  pair  of  shoes  each,  and  he  shall  call 
upon  you  for  them."  The  whole  family  appeared  struck 
with  joy,  amazement,  and  gratitude :  and  M.  de  Sallo  de- 
parted greatly  moved,  and  with  a  mind  filled  with  satisfac- 
tion at  having  saved  a  man,  and  perhaps  a  family,  from  the 
commission  of  guilt,  from  an  ignominious  death,  and  per- 
haps from  eternal  perdition. 


166  THE    MUSEUM. 

SAVAGE  COURAGE  AND    PATRIOTISM. 

THE  American  Indians  of  Fond  du  Lac,  in  the  Michi- 
gan territory,  a  small  tribe  of  about  fifty  men — from  their 
pacific  disposition,  were  branded  by  their  neighbours  the 
Sioux  with  cowardice.  Feeling  indignant  at  this,  thirteen 
of  them,  without  consulting  their  friends,  whb  were  then 
negotiating  a  peace  with  the  Sioux,  formed  a  league  to  res- 
cue their  tribe  from  imputation  on  their  courage,  and  secret- 
ly penetrated  into  the  Sioux  country.  Unexpected,  they 
came  upon  a  party  of  100  Sioux,  and  began  to  prepare  for 
battle:  but  the  Sioux,  seeing  their  small  number,  advised 
them  to  return  home  ;  that  they  admired  their  valor,  and 
intimated  to  them,  that  if  they  persisted  their  destruction 
was  inevitable.  "  The  Fond  du  Lac  Indians  replied,  that 
they  had  set  out  with  a  determination  to  fight  the  first 
enemy  they  should  meet,  however  unequal  their  numbers 
might  be,  and  would  have  entered  their  villages  if  none  had 
appeared  sooner" — they  had  resolved  in  this  manner  to  show 
their  brethren  that  the  stigmas  that  were  thrown  upon  them 
were  unjust,  "  for  no  men  were  braver  than  their  warriors ;" 
and  that  they  were  ready  and  would  sacrifice  their  lives  in 
defence  of  the  character  of  their  tribe.  They  encamped  a 
short  distance  from  the  Sioux,  and  during  the  night  dug 
holes  in  the  ground,  to  which  they  might  retreat  arid  fight 
to  the  last  extremity.  They  appointed  one  of  their  number 
(the  youngest)  to  take  a  station  at  a  distance  and  witness 
the  struggle,  and  instructed  him  to  make  his  escape  to  their 
own  country,  when  he  had  witnessed  the  death  of  all  the 
rest,  and  state  the  circumstances  under  which  they  had 
fallen.  Early  in  the  morning  they  attacked  the  Sioux  in 
their  camp,  who  immediately  sallying  out  upon  them,  forced 
them  back  to  the  last  place  of  retreat  they  had  resolved 
upon.  They  fought  desperately,  and  more  than  twice  their 
own  number  were  killed  before  they  lost  their  lives.  Eight 
of  them  were  tomahawked  in  the  holes  to  which  they  re- 
treated ;  and  the  other  four  fell  on  the  field  ;  the  thirteenth 
returned  home  according  to  the  directions  he  had  received, 
and  related  the  foregoing  circumstances  to  his  tribe.  They 
mourned  their  death,  but  delighted  with  the  unexampled 
bravery  of  their  friends,  they  were  happy  in  their  grief. 


THE     MUSEUM.  167 


THE  FAITHFUL  FRENCH  SERVANT. 

A  LADY  of  Marseilles,  in  the  earlier  period  of  the  Revo- 
lution, about  to  emigrate,  wished  before  her  departure  to 
place  a  considerable  property  in  plate,  linen,  trinkets,  wear- 
ing apparel,  and  other  articles,  in  a  place  of  safety.  To 
bury  in  cellars  was  become  so  common,  that  they  were  now 
among  the  first  places  searched  on  any  suspicion  of  con- 
cealed treasures  ;  and  to  convey  the  things  out  of  the  house 
even  by  small  portions  at  a  time,  without  being  discovered, 
was  a  thing  out  of  all  hope.  What  then  was  to  be  done? 
She  consulted  with  an  old  and  faithful  servant,  who,  during 
a  great  number  of  years  that  he  had  been  in  the  family, 
had  given  such  repeated  proofs  of  his  fidelity  and  attach- 
ment to  it,  that  she  placed  unbounded  confidence  in  him. 
He  advised  her  to  pack  the  things  in  trunks,  and  deposit 
them  in  a  garret  at  one  end  of  the  house  ;  then  to  wall  up 
the  door  into  it,  and  new  plaster  over  the  whole  room  adjoin- 
ing, so  as  to  leave  no  traces  by  which  it  could  be  discovered 
that  it  had  any  communication  with  any  other  apartment. 
This  advice  was  followed,  and  the  plan  executed  without 
the  privacy  of  any  other  person  than  the  man  who  suggest- 
ed it.  He  himself  walled  up  the  door-way,  and  plastered 
over  the  outer  room  ;  and,  when  all  was  finished,  the  lady 
departed,  leaving  the  care  of  her  house  entirely  to  him. 

Shortly  after  her  departure,  the  servant  received  a  visit 
from  the  municipal  officer,  who  came  with  a  party  of  his 
myrmidoms  to  search  the  house,  as  belonging  to  an  emigrant, 
and  suspected  of  containing  a  considerable  property.  They 
examined  every  room,  every  closet,  every  place  in  the  house, 
but  nothing  of  any  value  was  to  be  discovered  : — some  large 
articles  of  furniture,  which  could  not  conveniently  be  dis- 
posed of,  and  which  it  was  judged  better  to  leave,  in  order 
to  save  appearances,  were  the  only  things  to  be  found.  The 
officer  said  that  it  was  impossible  the  other  things  could  be 
conveyed  away,  and  threatened  the  servant  with  the  utmost 
severity  of  justice  if  he  would  not  confess  where  they  were 
concealed.  He,  however,  constantly  denied  any  knowledge 
of  the  matter,  and  said,  that  if  any  thing  had  been  conceal- 
ed the  secret  was  unknown  to  him.  This  did  not  satisfy 


168  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  officer ;  but  finding  he  could  make  no  impression  on  the 
man,  he  carried  him  before  the  commune.  Here  he  was 
again  interrogated,  and  menaced  even  with  the  guillotine  if 
he  did  not  confess  where  his  mistress'  property  was  con- 
cealed ;  but  his  resolution  still  remained  unshaken ;  he 
steadily  ad  tiered  to  his  first  assertion,  that  if  any  thing  was 
concealed  it  was  without  his  knowledge ;  till  at  length  the 
officers,  believing  it  impossible  that  if  he  really  were  in  pos- 
session of  the  secret,  he  could  retain  it  with  the  fear  of  death 
before  his  eyes,  were  persuaded  that  he  was  not  in  his  mis- 
tress' confidence  and  dismissed  him.  They  obliged  him, 
however,  to  quit  the  house,  and  a  creature  of  their  own  was 
placed  in  it.  Again  and  again  it  was  searched,  but  to  no 
purpose ;  nor  was  the  real  truth  ever  suspected. 

But  when  the  career  of  the  terrorists  was  closed  by  the 
fall  of  their  leaders,  the  faithful  servant,  who  beheld  their 
downfall  with  exultation,  as  his  own  triumph,  on  a  repre- 
sentation of  his  case  to  the  new  magistracy,  was  replaced 
in  his  trust  in  the  house  of  his  mistress.  Some  little  time 
after,  a  person  came  to  him  one  day,  who  said  that  he  was 
sent  on  the  part  of  his  mistress ;  that,  as  she  was  unable  at 
present  to  return,  she  wished  some  trunks  which  she  had 
left  concealed  to  be  sent  to  her,  as  they  could  now  be  moved 
with  safety ;  and  she  had  described  to  him,  he  said,  the 
place  and  manner  in  which  they  were  concealed,  to  the  end 
that,  if  any  misfortune  had  happened  to  the  servant,  he 
might  know  where  to  find  them.  He  then  detailed  all  the 
particulars  relative  to  their  concealment,  with  so  much  accu- 
racy, that  the  servant,  seeing  him  in  full  possession  of  the 
secret,  could  not  doubt  of  his  being  really  charged  with  the 
mission  he  assumed.  He  therefore  opened  the  room,  and 
assisted  in  conveying  away  the  trunks ;  after  which  he  was 
informed  by  the  emissary,  that  his  mistress  had  given  orders, 
as  there  was  now  nothing  of  consequence  left  in  the  house, 
that  it  should  be  shut  up,  and  he  must  maintain  himself  as 
well  as  he  could.  This  was  almost  a  heart-breaking  stroke 
to  the  faithful  servant ;  but  no  appeal  could  be  made  against 
the  will  of  his  mistress,  and  he  took  to  the  trade  of  a  cob- 
bler, which  he  had  learned  in  his  youth,  to  gain  himself  a 
livelihood. 

A  long  time  elapsed  without  any  thing  more  being  heard 


THE    MUSEUM.  169 

or  the  lady  ;  when  at  length  she  appeared,  and  was  in  the 
utmost  consternation  at  learning  what  had  passed.  She 
declared  that  she  had  never  given  a  commission  to  any  one 
to  demand  her  property :  nor  could  she  conceive  how  the 
impostor  had  arrived  at  the  knowledge  necessary  for  carry- 
ing on  the  fraud  lie  had  practised.  The  only  way  in  which 
she  could  account  for  the  misfortune  was,  that  thinking  there 
was  no  necessity  in  a  foreign  country  to  guard  her  secret 
inviolably,  she  might  perhaps  have  talked  of  it  indiscretly 
before  some  one  who  had  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  take 
a  journey  to  Marseilles  to  possess  himself  fraudulently  of 
her  property.  She  acknowledged,  at  the  same  time,  that 
the  fraud  was  so  artfully  contrived,  that  the  servant  was 
fully  absolved  for  having  been  the  dupe  of  it ;  and  the  pov- 
erty, in  which  he  had  lived  ever  since,  perfectly  exonerated 
him  from  the  suspicion  of  having  been  any  thing  else  than  a 
dupe  in  the  affair. 


THE    TREACHEROUS    GUESTS. 

IN  the  month  of  June,  1818,  a  pedler  and  his  wife  pre- 
sented themselves  at  nightfall  at  the  door  of  a  little  farm- 
house, near  the  village  of  the  Brie,  in  France,  and  request- 
ed of  the  farmer  permission  to  sleep  there  ;  his  wife  was 
still  confined  to  her  bed,  having  lately  lain-in.  A  small 
room  was  assigned  to  them  where  they  passed  the  night 
quietly.  The  next  day  being  Sunday,  the  farmer  and  his 
servants  went  to  mass  to  a  neighboring  village.  The  ped- 
ler also  expressed  a  wish  to  go,  and  there  remained  in  the 
house  only  the  wife  of  the  farmer,  the  pedler's  wife,  who 
complained  that  she  was  not  well,  and  a  child  of  six  years 
of  age. 

Scarcely  had  the  people  gone  out,  when  the  pedler's  wife, 
armed  with  a  knife,  presented  herself  at  the  bed  of  the  ly- 
ing-in woman,  and  demanded  her  money,  threatening  to 
kill  her  in  case  of  refusal.  The  latter,  sick  and  weak,  did 
not  oppose  the  slightest  resistance,  and  delivered  up  the  keys 
of  her  drawers,  at  the  same  time  desiring  the  little  boy  to 
conduct  the  woman  who  had  to  look  for  something  in  them. 

37 


170  THE    MUSEUM. 

She  rose  softly  from  her  bed,  followed  the  pedler's  wife 
without  being  heard  and  having  beckoned  the  child  out  ol 
the  room,  locked  the  robber  up  in  the  chamber.  She  then 
desired  the  child  to  run  to  the  village,  to  apprise  his  father, 
and  desire  him  to  bring  assistance. 

The  child  did  not  lose  an  instant ;  but  by  an  inconceiv- 
able fatality  met  on  the  road  the  pedler,  who  had  left  the 
church,  no  doubt,  to  join  his  wife.  Having  asked  the  child 
where  he  was  going,  the  latter  answered  ingenuously  he 
was  going  to  seek  his  father,  as  an  attempt  was  made  to  rob 
them.  The  pedler  took  the  child  by  the  hand,  and  said  it 
would  he  unnecessary,  and  that  he  would  himself  go  and 
protect  his  mother. 

They  returned  to  the  farm  where  the  farmer's  wife  was 
shut  up  ;  they  knocked  at  the  door,  but  this  woman  not  re- 
cognizing the  voice  of  her  husband,  obstinately  refused  to 
open  it ;  the  pedler  made  vain  efforts  to  induce  to  it,  and 
being  unable  to  attain  his  end,  threatened  to  cut  her  child's 
throat,  if  she  did  not. instantly  decide  upon  it.  Furious  at 
not  being  able  to  prevail  upon  her,  he  executed  his  horrible 
threat,  and  killed  the  child,  almost  under  the  eyes  of  its 
mother,  who  heard,  without  being  able  to  give  succor,  the 
cries  and  last  sighs  of  her  son. 

After  having  committed  this  useless  crime,  he  endeavor- 
ed to  penetrate  into  the  house  to  save  his  wife  ;  time  press- 
ed, they  might  each  moment  return  from  mass,  and  he  could 
not  succeed  in  getting  admission  but  by  mounting  on  the 
roof  and  descending  down  the  chimney.  During  all  this 
time  he  exhausted  his  rage  in  menaces  and  imprecations 
against  the  fanner's  wife,  who,  almost  fainting,  saw  nothing 
to  deliver  her  from  certain  death.  This  wretch  had  al- 
ready got  into  the  chimney,  and  was  about  to  enter  into 
the  chamber,  when  the  farmer's  wife,  collecting  all  her 
force,  drew,  by  sudden  inspiration,  the  paillasse  of  her  bed 
to  the  edge  of  the  hearth,  and  there  set  it  on  fire.  The 
smoke  in  a  few  minutes  enveloped  the  assassin,  who,  not 
being  able  to  reascend,  very  soon  fell  into  the  fire  half  suf- 
focated. The  courageous  wife  lost  not  her  presence  of 
mind,  but  struck  him  several  blows  with  the  poker,  which 
put  him  beyond  the  chance  of  recovering  his  senses.  Fi- 
nally exhausted  with  fatigue  and  mental  agony,  she  fell 


THE    TREACHEROUS    GUEST. 
See  page  170,  vol.  II. 


THE    MUSEUM.  171 

senseless  on  the  carpet  of  her  chamber,  and  remained  in  this 
situation  till  the  moment  when  the  (anner  and  his  servants 
returned  from  church  to  be  witnesses  of  this  horrible  occur- 
rence. The  dead  body  of  the  child  at.  the  gate  of  the  farm- 
house, was  the  first  spectacle  that  struck  (he  eyes  of  this  un- 
happy father.  They  forced  open  the  gate,  and  after  having 
recalled  to  life  the  farmer's  wife,  they  seized  the  two  culprits, 
who  were  delivered  up  to  justice.  The  pedler  survived  his 
wounds,  and  both  received  the  punishment  due  to  their 
crimes. 


JOHN    MACKAY.    THE    FATALIST. 

THE  subject  of  the  following  melancholy  tale  has  long 
ceased  to  exist,  and  there  is  not  in  the  place  of  his  nativity  a 
being  who  bears  his  name.  The  recital  will,  therefore, 
wound  the  feelings  of  no  one  ;  nor  will  it  disturb  the  ashes 
of  the  dead,  to  give  to  the  world  the  story  of  his  madness, 
rather  than  his  crime. 

The  name  of  John  Mackay  appears  on  the  criminal  re- 
cords of  the  town  of  Belfast,  in  the  north  of  Ireland.  He  was 
the  murderer  of  his  own  child.  It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell 
on  the  character  of  this  unhappy  man  ;  suffice  it  that,  from 
early  education,  and  deeply  rooted  habits,  he  was  a  fatalist. 
An  enthusiastic  turn  of  mind  had  been  warped  into  a  super- 
stitious dread  ;  and  the  fabric  that  might  have  been  great 
and  beautiful,  became  a  ruin  that  only  betokened  death  and 
gloom.  Yet  in  his  breast  the  Creator  had  infused  much  of 
the  milk  of  human,  kindness,  and  his  disposition  peculiarly 
fitted  him  to  be  at  peace  with  all  men.  The  poison  had 
lain  dormant  in  his  bosom,  but  it  rankled  there.  Domestic 
sorrows  contributed  to  strengthen  his  gloomy  creed  ;  and  its 
effects  were  darker  as  it  took  a  deeper  root.  Life  soon  lost 
all  its  pleasures  for  him  ;  his  usual  employments  were  ne- 
glected ;  his  dress  and  appearance  altered  ;  his  once  anima- 
ted countenance  bore  the  traces  of  shame  or  guilt,  and  a 
sort  of  suspicious  eagerness  was  in  every  look  and  action. 

He  had  an  only  child  ;  one  of  the  loveliest  infants  that 
ever  blessed  a  father's  heart.  It  was  the  melancholy  lega- 


172  THE    MUSEUM. 

cy  of  the  woman  he  had  loved  ;  and  never  did  a  parent  dote 
with  more  affection  on  an  earthly  hope.  This  little  infant, 
all  purity  and  innocence,  was  destined  to  be  the  victim  of 
his  madness.  One  morning  his  friend  entered  his  apart- 
ment, and  what  was  his  horror  at  beholding  the  child 
stretched  on  the  floor,  and  the  father  standing  over  it,  his 
hands  reeking  with  the  blood  of  his  babe.  "  God  of  hea- 
ven !"  exclaimed  his  friend,  "  what  is  here  ?"  Macaky  ap- 
proached, and  calmly  welcomed  him,  bidding  him  behold 
what  he  had  clone.  His  friend  beat  his  bosom,  and  sunk  on 
a  chair,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands.  "  Why  do  you 
grieve  ?"  asked  the  maniac ;  "  why  are  you  unhappy  ?"  I 
was  the  father  of  that  breathless  corpse,  and  I  do  not  weep  ; 
I  am  even  joyful  when  I  gaze  on  it.  Listen,  my  friend, 
listen  ;  I  knew  I  was  predestined  to  murder,  and  who  was 
so  fit  to  be  my  victim  as  that  little  innocent,  to  whom  I  gave 
life,  and  from  whom  I  have  taken  it?  He  had  no  crime  to 
answer  for ;  besides,  how  could  I  leave  him  in  a  cold  world 
which  would  mock  him  with  my  name?  Even  before  the 
commission  of  the  crime,  he  had  sent  to  a  magistrate,  whose 
officers  shortly  entered  and  apprehended  him.  He  coolly 
surrendered  himself,  and  betrayed  no  emotion  ;  but  he  took 
from  his  bosom  a  miniature  of  his  wife,  dipped  it  in  the 
blood  of  his  babe,  and  without  a  sigh  or  a  tear,  departed.  It 
was  this  circumstance  that  made  many  loathe  him,  and 
created  against  him  a  sentiment  of  general  abhorrence ; 
but  when  he  afterwards,  in  prison,  declared  to  his  friend  the 
storm  of  passions  to  which  that  horrid  calm  succeeded — that 
he  had  torn  his  hair  until  the  blood  trickled  down  his  fore- 
head, while  his  brain  seemed  bursting  his  scull; — his  friend 
was  satisfied,  and  still  loved  him.  In  the  prison  he  was 
with  him  :  though  all  others  deserted  him,  he  pitied  and 
wept.  Still,  even  to  the  last,  he  believed  he  had  but  fulfil- 
led his  duty  in  the  death  of  his  child  ;  and  often  when  he 
described  the  scene,  and  told  how  the  infant  smiled  on  its 
father  at  the  moment  he  was  prepared  to  kill  it,  lisping  his 
name  as  the  weapon  was  at  its  throat,  he  would  start  with 
horror  at  his  own  tale,  and  curse  the  destiny  which  had  de- 
creed it,  but  always  spoke  of  it  as  a  necessary  deed.  The 
time  appointed  for  his  trial  approached  ;  he  contemplated  it 
without  dread,  and  talked  of  the  fate  that  awaited  him 


THE    MUSEUM.  173 

without  a  shudder.  But  his  friend  had  exerted  himself  to 
procure  such  testimony  of  the  stale  of  his  mind,  previous  to 
his  committing  the  dreadful  act,  as  to  leave  little  dread  of 
the  result;  yet  he  feared  to  awaken  hopes  in  the  unhappy 
prisoner  which  might  be  destroyed,  and  never  mentioned  it 
to  him. 

The  morning  of  his  trial  arrived  ;  he  was  brought  to  the 
bar ;  his  hollow  eyes  glared  unconsciously  on  his  judge,  and 
he  gave  his  plea,  as  if  the  words  il  not  guilty"  came  from  a 
being  without  life.  But  his  recollection  seemed  for  a  mo- 
ment to  return  ;  he  opened  his  lips  and  gasped  faintly,  as  if 
he  wished  to  recall  them.  The  trial  commenced,  and  he 
listened  with  the  same  apathy ;  but  once  betraying  feeling, 
when  he  smiled  on  his  friend  beside  him.  The  evidence 
had  been  heard ;  the  jury  had  returned  to  their  box  and 
were  about  to  record  a  verdict  of  insanity,  when  a  groan 
from  the  prisoner  created  a  momentary  pause,  and  he  drop- 
ped lifeless  in  the  dock.  He  had  for  some  minutes  shadow- 
ed his  countenance  with  his  hand,  and  no  one  but  his 
friend  perceived  its  dreadful  alteration.  He  attributed  it  to 
the  awful  suspense  of  the  moment,  the  agony  between  hope 
and  despair.  Its  cause  was  a  more  awful  one — he  had 
procured  poison,  had  taken  it,  and  with  an  almost  superhu- 
man strength,  had  struggled  with  its  effects  until  he  fell 
dead  before  the  court.  He  was  buried  in  the  church-yard  of 
his  native  village,  where  a  mound  of  earth  marked  his 
grave,  but  there  was  neither  stone  nor  inscription  to  preserve 
the  name  of  one  so  wretched. 


MAGNANIMOUS  CONDUCT  OF  GENERAL  BAUR. 

AT  the  time  the  Russian  troops  were  in  Holstein,  says 
Captain  Bruce.  General  Baur,  who  commanded  the  caval- 
ry, and  was  himself  a  soldier  of  fortune,  his  family  or  coun- 
try being  a  secret  to  every  body,  took  an  opportunity  to  dis- 
cover himself,  which  surprised  and  pleased  those  who  were 
about  him.  Being  encamped  near  Husum,  in  Holstein,  he 
invited  all  his  field  officers,  and  some  others,  to  dine  with 
him,  and  sent  his  adjutant  to  bring  a  miller  and  his  wife, 

37* 


174  THE    MUSEUM. 

who  lived  in  the  neighborhood,  to  the  entertainment.  The 
poor  couple  came,  very  much  afraid  of  the  Muscovite  Gene- 
ral, and  were  quite  confused  when  they  appeared  before 
him,  which  he  perceiving,  bade  them  make  themselves  quite 
easy,  for  he  only  meant  to  show  them  kindness,  and  had 
sent  for  them  to  dine  with  him  that  day,  and  talked  with 
them  familiarly  about  the  country  :  the  dinner  being  set,  he 
placed  the  miller  and  his  wife  next  to  himself,  one  on  each 
hand,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  paid  great  attention  to 
them,  inviting  them  to  make  free  and  eat  hearty. 

In  the  course  of  the  entertainment,  he  asked  the  miller  a 
great  many  questions  about  his  family  and  his  relations  ;  the 
miller  told  him,  that  he  was  the  eldest  son  of  his  father, 
who  had  been  also  a  miller  at  the  same  mill  he  then  pos- 
sessed ;  that  he  had  two  brothers,  tradesmen ;  and  one  sis- 
ter, married  to  a  tradesman  ;  that  his  own  family  consisted 
of  one  son  and  three  daughters.  The  general  asked  him,  if 
he  never  had  any  other  brother  than  those  he  had  mention- 
ed ;  he  replied,  he  had  once  another,  but  he  was  dead  many 
years  ago,  for  they  had  never  heard  of  him  since  he  enlisted 
and  went  away  with  the  soldiers  when  he  was  very  young, 
and  he  must  certainly  have  been  killed  in  the  wars.  The 
General  observing  the  company  much  surprised  at  his  be- 
havior to  these  people,  thinking  he  did  it  by  way  of  diver- 
sion, said  to  them,  "  Gentlemen,  you  have  always  been  very 
curious  to  know  who  and  whence  I  am  ;  I  now  inform  you, 
this  is  the  place  of  my  nativity,  and  you  have  now  heard 
from  this  my  elder  brother,  what  my  family  is."  And  then 
turning  towards  the  miller  and  his  wife,  he  embraced  them 
very  affectionately,  telling  them  he  was  their  supposed  dead 
brother ;  #nd  to  confirm  it,  he  related  every  thing  that  had 
happened  in  the  family  before  he  left  it.  The  General  invi- 
ted them  all  to  dine  with  him  the  next  day  at  the  miller's, 
where  a  plentiful  entertainment  was  provided,  and  told  them 
that  was  the  house  where  he  was  born.  General  Baur  then 
made  a  generous  provision  for  all  his  relations,  and  sent  the 
miller's  only  son  to  Berlin  for  his  education,  who  turned  out 
an  accomplished  young  man. 


THE    MUSEUM.  175 


ANCIENT    BARBARITY    AND    IGNORANCE    OF    THE 
GERMANS. 

ABOUT  1322,  happened  an  event  among  the  Yenedic 
peasants,  in  the  duchy  of  Luneburgh,  which  strongly  proves 
the  barbarity  of  an  ignorant  age.  The  countess  of  Mans- 
field, who  was  daughter  to  the  count  of  Luchow.  had  occa- 
sion to  pay  a  visit  to  her  relations.  In  her  way  through  the 
country  of  Luneburg,  as  she  was  on  the  extremity  of  a  wood, 
she  heard  the  cries  of  a  person  who  seemed  to  be  imploring 
mercy.  Startled  at  the  dismal  sound,  she  ordered  one  of 
her  domestics  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  those  lamenta- 
tions ;  but  her  humanity  rendering  her  too  impatient  to  wait 
his  return,  she  ordered  her  coachman  to  drive  to  the  place 
from  whence  the  voice  issued  ;  when  lo  !  to  her  great  aston- 
ishment, she  beheld  a  decrepit  old  man,  with  his  hands  tied, 
begging  hard  for  mercy,  arid  entreating  a  person  that  was 
digging  a  grave  to  spare  his  life.  Struck  with  this  moving 
spectacle,  the  gentle  countess  asked  the  grave  digger  what 
he  meant  by  using  such  violence  to  the  helpless  old  man. 
The  digger,  not  at  all  alarmed  at  the  sight  of  the  lady  and 
her  retinue,  but  thinking  himself  engaged  in  an  action  no 
way  criminal,  and  even  agreeable  to  justice  and  reason, 
told  the  countess  that  the  old  man  was  his  own  father,  but 
now  past  labor,  and  unable  to  earn  his  bread ;  he  therefore 
was  going  to  commit  him  to  the  earth  from  whence  he  carne, 
as  a  burden  and  a  nuisance.  The  lady,  shocked  at  a  speech 
which  she  thought  so  unnatural,  reproved  the  man  for  his 
impiety,  and  represented  to  him  how  contrary  such  an 
action  was  to  the  divine  law,  by  which  we  are  forbid  to  kill 
any  man.  much  less  our  parent,  whom  we  are  bound  to  re- 
spect and  honor.  The  man,  looking  at  her  earnestly,  said, 
"  What  must  I  do,  good  lady  ?  I  have  a  house  full  of  chil- 
dren, and  I  must  work  hard  to  maintain  them  all,  and 
scarce  is  my  labour  sufficient;  now  I  cannot  take  the  bread 
out  of  the  mouths  of  my  little  babes,  and  suffer  them  to 
starve,  to  give  it  to  this  old  man,  whose  life  is  no  longer  of 
any  use  either  to  himself  or  to  my  family."  The  countess, 
fetching  a  deep  sigh,  turned  about  to  her  attendants,  "  Be- 
hold," said  she,  "  the  miserable  condition  of  these  poor  pea- 


176  THE    MUSEUM. 

sants ;  how  lamentable  their  case,  how  hard  their  distress  to 
be  obliged  to  kill  those  who  gave  them  life  to  prevent  their 
offspring  from  starving !  Yet  the  opulent  and  the  great  are 
insensible  of  the  misery  of  these  poor  objects,  and  instead  of 
relieving  their  necessities,  every  day  aggravate  their  dis- 
tress by  new  tyranny  and  oppression."  Saying  this,  the 
generous  lady  drew  out  her  purse,  and  giving  the  man  a 
considerable  sum,  desired  him  to  spare  his  aged  father's  life : 
the  man  returned  her  thanks,  and  promised  to  provide  for 
him  as  long  as  the  money  lasted.  The  lady  declared  he 
should  have  a  further  supply  when  necessary,  and  ordered 
her  servants  to  proceed  on  their  journey. 


FEMALE    GUILT    AND   FORTITUDE. 

NEARLY  a  century  since,  a  wealthy  inhabitant  of  Amster- 
dam was  so  unfortunate  as  to  form  a  connexion  with  a  noted 
courtesan  named  Catteau.  From  that  moment  he  neglected 
his  business,  ill  treated  his  wife,  wasted  his  property,  and 
took  to  those  courses  which  lead  to  ruin  and  infamy. 

At  the  instigation  of  the  courtesan,  he  trepanned  his  wife 
into  an  uninhabited  house,  situated  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
cii.y,  where  there  were  vaults  which  communicated  with  a 
canal.  There  the  wretches  murdered  her ;  and  throwing 
the  body  into  the  water,  hoped  to  escape  detection. 

They  were,  however,  deceived.  The  friends  of  the  wife 
were  apprehensive  that  she  was  made  away  with.  They 
communicated  their  suspicions  to  the  burgomasters ;  a  strict 
search  was  made;  the  body  was  discovered,  and  such  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  procured,  as  justified  the  arrest  of  the 
husband  and  his  mistress. 

The  man  showed  signs  of  guilt ;  and,  when  the  instru- 
ments of  torture  were  applied,  he  made  a  full  confession  of 
every  thing  that  had  occurred  ;  of  course,  completely  crim- 
inating the  vile  woman  who  had  assisted  in  the  murder. 

On  the  contrary,  the  female  stoutly  denied  every  allega- 
tion ;  declared  her  own  innocence,  and  said  the  man  was 
insane,  or  had  been  driven  by  torture  to  criminate  her 
falsely. 


THE    MTTSETTM.  177 

They  were  confronted  with  each  other,  when  the  man  de- 
liberately repeated  his  confession  in  her  presence,  and  ex- 
horted her  to  repent  of  her  crime,  and  endeavor  to  save  her 
soul.  She  looked  at  him  with  ineffable  contempt,  and  to  the 
disgust  and  astonishment  of  her  judges,  persisted  in  asserting 
her  innocence,  and  demanded  her  acquittal. 

She  was  then  put  to  the  torture,  the  ordinary  and  extraor- 
dinary ;  and,  although  every  joint  of  her  legs  and  arms  were 
dislocated,  she  steadily  persisted  in  her  declarations  of  inno- 
cence. 

By  the  ancient  law  of  Holland,  before  prisoners  could  be 
put.  to  death,  they  were  required  to  confess  their  guilt,  and 
the  justice  of  their  sentence :  the  man  having  obeyed  both 
requisitions,  escaped  torture,  and  was  beheaded  on  the  scaf- 
fold facing  the  stadt-house. 

The  female,  Catteau,  survived  her  sufferings,  and  was  im- 
prisoned during  life  in  the  spen-house ;  she  was  of  course  a 
cripple,  scarcely  able  to  walk  or  help  herself,  but  her  firmness 
never  forsook  her,  nor  was  she  ever  brought  to  confess  her 
guilt. 

After  her  death,  her  body  was  given  to  the  surgeons ;  and 
her  skeleton  is  yet  to  be  seen  in  the  anatomy  chamber,  in  the 
Nieuwe  Markt,  at  Amsterdam. 


EDWARD    TINKER. 

THIS  man  belonged  to  Newbern,  Craven  County,  North 
Carolina.  He  there  married  a  Miss  Durand,  by  whom  he 
had  children.  He  was  the  master  of  a  small  schooner,  and 
was  engaged  in  the  coasting  trade.  Peter  Durand,  his  bro- 
ther-in-law, was  one  of  the  crew,  and  sailed  with  him. 

In  1810,  while  his  schooner  was  lying  at  Baltimore,  an 
Irish  lad,  only  known  by  the  name  of  Edward,  came  on  board 
and  desired  to  be  received  as  an  apprentice.  He  seemed  to 
be  about  seventeen  years  old.  After  some  conversation 
Tinker  agreed  to  receive  him,  and  he  became  one  of  the 
crew.  No  indentures  were  made  out,  but  it  was  understood 
that  they  were  to  be  prepared  on  the  arrival  of  the  vessel  at 
Newbern. 


173  THE    MUSEUM. 

The  vessel  was  insured  to  her  full  value,  and  before  she 
sailed  from  Baltimore,  Potts,  the  mate,  and  Peter  Durand 
bored  holes  in  her  bottom  with  an  inch  auger,  and  stopped 
them  with  wooden  plugs,  by  Tinker's  orders.  He  said  it 
would  be  very  lucky  if  she  ever  reached  Newbern.  She 
sailed  on  the  second  of  March,  and  while  on  the  passage 
Tinker  treated  the  boy  Edward  kindly,  appearing  to  be  at- 
tached to  him.  Once  when  Potts  was  about  to  chastise  him, 
Tinker  prevented  it.  When  the  schooner  had  passed  Ocra- 
cock  Bay,  Tinker  ran  her  on  a  reef,  and  ordered  the  plugs  to 
be  taken  out,  which  service  was  performed  by  Potts  and  Du- 
rand. Trie  master  and  crew  saved  themselves  and  a  large 
sum  in  specie  in  the  boats.  When  they  came  to  Roanoke 
Island,  Tinker  waited  on  the  Notary  Public  with  a  written 
declaration  that  his  vessel  had  been  cast  away  in  a  gale  of 
wind.  To  this  statement  he  made  oath,  and  persuaded 
Durand  to  do  the  same,  telling  him  it  was  a  matter  of  no 
more  moment  than  drinking  a  glass  of  grog.  Truly  these 
men  had  but  small  respect  for  the  awful  name  they  thus 
took  in  vain.  Durand  was  indeed  a  young  man,  and  under 
many  obligations  to  his  brother-in-law.  Potts  perjured  him- 
self without  scruple,  following  the  example  and  advice  of  his 
principal,  as  did  another  sailor  named  Smith.  These  per- 
sons, with  Edward,  constituted  the  whole  crew.  Edward 
was  the  only  one  who  would  not  swear,  and  his  virtue  made 
it  necessary  for  Tinker  to  get  rid  of  him. 

When  they  reached  Newbern  they  all  went  to  board  with 
Tinker  in  his  house,  till  he  should  get  another  vessel,  which 
he  soon  did.  For  some  reason  unknown,  Edward  became 
dissatisfied,  and  on  the  seventh  of  April  applied  to  Captain 
Cook  of  the  revenue  cutter  for  employment.  Captain  Cook 
shipped  him  at  sixteen  dollars  per  month.  This  increased 
Tinker's  enmity,  and  he  resolved  to  destroy  the  unfortunate 
lad. 

On  Sunday  evening  the  eighth  of  April,  Tinker  went  to 
church,  and  after  his  return  desired  Peter  Durand  to  procure 
some  rum.  He  did  so,  and  on  his  return  Tinker  desired 
him  to  awaken  the  boy  Edward  without  disturbing  the  rest 
of  the  family,  and  tell  him  they  were  going  to  shoot  ducks. 
Durand  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and  while  Edward  was 
dressing,  Tinker  got  his  gun.  When  about  to  start  the  lad 


THE    MUSEUM.  179 

«aid  he  had  left  his  hat  in  the  kitchen,  but  Tinker  told  him 
not  to  mind  that  for  he  would  not  want  it,  which  unhappily 
proved  but  too  true.  The  boy  tied  his  handkerchief  round 
his  head  and  they  all  started  together. 

As  they  went  along  the  street  they  met  two  watchmen. 
One  of  them  said,  "  What,  brother !  are  you  going  to  your 
vessel  at  this  time  of  night?"  Tinker  nodded  in  token  of 
assent.  They  then  left  the  watchmen,  and  when  they  had 
reached  Tinker's  boat,  the  wretch  proposed  to  go  to  a  neigh- 
boring marsh  to  kill  ducks.  Diirand  said  that  if  he  was  go- 
ing down  the  river  they  had  better  proceed  without  delay, 
but  Tinker  insisted  on  going  to  the  marsh  first,  saying  they 
should  have  time  enough. 

When  they  reached  the  marsh,  Tinker  bade  Edward  go 
forward  and  see  if  there  were  any  ducks  in  the  creek.  The 
boy  obeyed,  and  when  he  had  proceeded  five  or  six  yards 
Tinker  levelled  his  gun  and  lodged  the  whole  charge  of 
coarse  shot  in  his  back.  He  fell  dead  without  uttering  a 
syllable. 

Durand  was  terrified  at  beholding  this  ruthless  deed,  and 
cried  out  for  very  fear.  The  savage  bade  him  "  hold  his 
jaw,"  and  offered  him  a  glass  of  spirits,  having  first  taken 
one  himself.  He  then  cut  off  the  boat's  painter,  and  with 
that  and  a  cord  tied  two  stones  weighing  together  upwards 
of  sixty  pounds  to  the  body.  He  then  threw  it  into  the 
water,  tied  it  to  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  ordered  Durand  to 
push  the  boat  ofT.  When  they  had  towed  the  corpse  into 
deep  water  Tinker  cut  the  rope,  and  it  sunk.  On  this  Du- 
rand was  greatly  agitated,  and  told  his  brother-in-law  he 
would  disclose  the  murder.  Tinker  bade  him  hold  his  peace, 
said  he  would  leave  the  country,  and  that  his  motive  for  kill- 
ing the  boy  was  his  intention  to  quit  him  and  ship  on  board 
the  revenue  cutter.  They  then  rowed  back  to  the  town  and 
went  home. 

To  avenge  this  foul  and  most  unnatural  murder  the  stream 
gave  up  its  dead.  The  body  of  the  slaughtered  youth  rose, 
with  all  the  weight  attached  to  it.  It  was  discovered  floating 
and  brought  to  the  wharf  at  Newbern,  a  foul  and  disgusting 
spectacle,  in  the  last  stages  of  putrefaction.  Many  mortal 
shot  wounds  were  plainly  discernible.  It  was  at  once  re 
cognized,  but  though  the  public  excitement  was  great,  Tink- 


180  THE    MUSEUM. 

er  showed  no  anxiety,  no  curiosity  to  behold  the  mangled 
remains  of  his  apprentice.  Guilt  had  sealed  his  lips.  His 
first  care  was  to  take  boat  and  descend  the  river  to  his  ves- 
sel. Suspicion  necessarily  fell  on  him,  and  Captain  Cook, 
who  it  will  be  remembered  had  also  a  claim  on  the  boy,  fol- 
lowed him.  When  he  reached  the  vessel's  deck  and  told 
Tinker  he  was  a  prisoner,  the  latter  said,  "  What  the  devil 
is  all  this  about?"  but  asked  no  farther  questions  touching 
the  cause  of  his  arrest.  One  of  the  posse  remarked,  that  if 
he  had  any  orders  to  give  concerning  his  vessel  he  had  bet- 
ter do  it  then,  as  it  would  probably  be  long  before  he  would 
see  her  again,  but  this  elicited  no  answer.  He  was  then 
taken  to  Newbern  and  committed, 

In  due  time  he  was  arraigned  before  the  Superior  Court  of 
Craven  county,  but  in  consequence  of  a  deficiency  of  jurors, 
no  trial  took  place,  and  the  prisoner  applied  to  have  his.  trial 
removed  to  Carteret  county,  giving  such  reasons  as  satisfied 
the  presiding  judge.  He  was  removed  to  Carteret  county, 
and  soon  after  broke  jail  and  lied  to  Philadelphia.  The 
sherilf  of  Craven  county  offered  a  high  reward  for  his  ap- 
prehension, and  he  was  shortly  recognized,  taken,  and  carried 
back  to  Newbern. 

While  he  was  awaiting  his  trial  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Peter 
Durand,  entreating  him  by  the  love  he  bore  his  sister  and  her 
children,  to  retract  the  admissions  he  had  made  when  ex- 
amined before  the  magistrates  and  swear  the  murder  to  Potts. 
On  this  condition  he  promised  to  leave  the  country,  and 
added,  that  it  would  be  better  to  tell  twenty  lies  than  persist 
in  a  true  story  to  his  brother's  disadvantage.  In  another  let- 
ter to  a  Mr.  Hay  wood,  he  offered  to  give  any  sum  provided 
he  would  procure  a  witness  to  swear  that  Peter  Durand  shot 
the  boy,  and  said  that  one  good  witness  in  his  behalf  would 
be  enough  to  clear  him.  He  also  wrote  to  a  Mr.  Hamburg 

. 

to  request  that  he  would  procure  witnesses  in  his  favor.  In  a 
second  letter  to  Peter  Durand,  he  besought  him  to  consider 
the  distress  of  Mrs.  Tinker  and  her  children,  put  him  in 
mind  that  he  owed  Potts  money,  and  again  entreated  him 
to  charge  Potts  with  the  murder.  In  case  they  should  be 
convicted  of  perjury,  the  worst  he  said,  that  could  happen  to 
either  would  be  the  loss  of  a  piece  of  one  ear.  A  fourth  let- 
ter to  his  sister  pointed  out  the  person  he  wished  her  to  sub- 


THE    MUSEUM.  191 

orn,  and  whom  he  proposed  to  reward  with  "  a  likely  negro." 
None  of  these  letters  were  received  by  the  persons  to  whom 
they  were  addressed,  excepting  those  to  Peter  Durand,  and 
they  were  all  afterwards  produced  in  court,  to  his  confusion. 

Tinker  was  tried  at  the  Carteret  Superior  Court  in  Sep- 
tember, 1S11. 

The  positive  testimony  of  Peter  Durand  to  the  facts  above 
related  was  corroborated  by  much  circumstantial  evindence. 
To  counteract  the  testimony  of  Durand,  it  was  urged  that 
he  had  no  respect  for  the  sanctity  of  an  oath,  as  he  had  be- 
fore perjured  himself  in  his  account  of  the  loss  of  the  ves- 
sel. It  was  also  truly  alleged,  that  for  ten  days  after  the 
murder  he  had  said  nothing  concerning  it,  and  that  he  had 
himself  been  apprehended  on  suspicion.  His  testimony 
before  the  magistrates  at  the  time  of  his  arrest  differed  from 
that  he  gave  on  the  trial.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  receiv- 
ed many  favors  from  Tinker,  was  his  near  connexion,  and 
could  have  no  motive  to  kill  the  boy  himself. 

While  the  trial  was  proceeding.  Tinker's  wife  appeared 
as  a  spectator,  in  mourning  weeds,  surrounded  by  her  chil- 
dren, and  made  the  hall  of  justice  resound  with  her  lamen- 
tations. This  appeal  to  the  feelings  of  the  jury  could  not 
prevail  against  a  perfect  chain  of  evidence.  The  prisoner 
was  convicted,  sentenced,  and  in  due  time  hanged. 


THE    INDIAN    WARRIOR. 

DURING  the  American  war,  a  company  of  the  Delaware 
Indians  attacked  a  small  detatchment  of  the  British  troops, 
and  defeated  them.  As  the  Indians  had  greatly  the  advan- 
tage of  swiftness  of  foot,  and  were  eager  in  the  pursuit, 
very  few  of  the  fugitives  escaped,  and  those  who  fell  into 
the  enemy's  hands,  were  treated  with  a  cruelty,  of  which 
there  are  not  many  examples,  even  in  that  country.  Two  of 
the  Indians  came  up  with  a  young  officer,  and  attacked  him 
with  great  fury.  As  they  were  armed  with  a  kind  of  battle- 
axe,  which  they  call  a  tomahawk,  he  had  no  hope  of 
escape,  and  thought  only  of  selling  his  life  as  dearly  as  he 
could ;  but  just  at  this  crisis,  another  Indian  came  up,  who 

38 


182  THE     MTTSETTM. 

seemed  to  be  advanced  in  years,  and  was  armed  with  bow 
and  arrows.  The  old  man  instantly  drew  his  bow  ;  but, 
after  having  taken  his  aim  at  the  officer,  he  suddenly  drop- 
ped the  point  of  his  arrow,  and  interposed  between  him  and 
his  pursuers,  who  were  about  to  cut  him  to  pieces.  They 
retired  with  respect.  The  old  man  then  took  the  officer  by 
the  hand,  soothed  him  into  confidence  by  caresses ;  and 
having  conducted  him  to  his  hut,  treated  him  with  a  kind- 
ness which  did  honor  to  his  professions.  He  made  him  less 
a  slave  than  a  companion,  taught  him  the  language  of  the 
country,  and  instructed  him  in  the  rude  arts  that  are  prac- 
tised by  the  inhabitants.  They  lived  together  in  the  most 
cordial  amity  ;  and  the  young  officer  found  nothing  to  re- 
gret, but  that  sometimes  the  old  man  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
him,  and  having  regarded  him  for  some  minutes  with  a 
steady  and  silent  attention,  burst  into  tears.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  spring  returned,  and  the  Indians  having  recourse 
to  their  arms  again  took  the  field.  The  old  man  who  was 
still  vigorous  and  well  able  to  bear  the  fatigues  of  war,  set 
out  with  them,  and  was  accompanied  by  his  prisoner. 
They  marched  above  two  hundred  leagues  across  the  forest, 
and  came  at  length  to  a  plain,  where  the  British  forces 
were  encamped. 

The  old  man  showed  his  prisoner  the  tents  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  at  the  same  time  remarked  his  countenance  with  the 
most  diligent  attention  :  "  There,"  says  he,  "  are  your  coun- 
trymen ;  there  is  the  enemy  who  wait  to  give  us  battle. 
Remember  that  I  have  saved  thy  life,  that  I  have  taught 
thee  to  construct  a  canoe,  and  to  arm  thyself  with  bow  and 
arrows  ;  to  surprise  the  beaver  in  the  forest,  to  wield  the 
tomahawk,  and  to  scalp  the  enemy.  What  wast  thou  when 
I  first  took  thee  to  my  hut?  Thy  hands  were  like  those  ot 
an  infant;  they  were  neither  fit  to  procure  thee  sustenance 
nor  safety.  Thy  soul  was  in  utter  darkness ;  thou  wast 
ignorant  of  every  thing,  and  thou  owest  all  things  to  me. 
Wilt  thou  then  go  over  to  thy  nation  and  take  up  the  hatch- 
et against  us  ?"  The  officer  replied,  "  That  he  would  rather 
lose  his  own  life  than  takeaway  that  of  his  deliverer."  The 
Indian  then  bending  down  his  head,  and  covering  his  face 
with  both  hands,  stood  some  time  silent ;  then  looking  ear- 
nestly at  his  prisoner,  he  said  in  a  voice  that  was  at  once 


THE    MUSEUM.  193 

softened  6y  tenderness  and  grief, "  Hast  thou  a  father  ?" 
"  My  father,"  said  the  young  man,  "  was  alive  when  I  left 
my  country."  "  Alas,"  said  the  Indian,  "  how  wretched 
must  he  be  !"  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  added, <;  1  )ost 
thou  know  that  I  have  been  a  father  ? — I  am  a  father  no 
more — I  saw  my  son  Kill  in  battle — he  fought  at  my  side — 
I  saw  him  expire  ;  but  he  died  like  a  man — he  was  covered 
with  wounds  when  he  fell  dead  at  my  feet — but  I  have  re- 
venged him  !"  He  pronounced  these  words  with  the  utmost 
vehemence ;  his  body  shook  with  a  universal  tremor ;  and 
he  was  almost  stifled  with  sighs  that  he  would  not  suffer  to 
escape  him.  There  was  a  keen  restlessness  in  his  eye  ;  but 
no  tear  would  flow  to  his  relief.  At  length,  he  became  calm 
by  degrees,  and  turning  towards  the  east,  where  the  sun  was 
then  rising,  "  Dost  thou  see,"  said  he  to  the  young  officer, 
"  the  beauty  of  that  sky,  which  sparkles  with  prevailing 
day  ?  and  hast,  thou  pleasure  in  the  sight  ?"  "  Yes,"  re- 
plied the  young  officer,  "  I  have  pleasure  in  the  beauty  of  so 
fine  a  sky."  "  I  have  none,"  said  the  Indian,  and  his  tears 
then  found  their  way.  A  few  minutes  after,  he  showed  the 
young  man  a  magnolia  in  full  bloom.  "  Dost  thou  see  that 
beautiful  tree?"  says  he,  "and  dost  thoa  look  upon  it  with 
pleasure  ?"  "  Yes,"  replied  the  officer, "  I  do  look  with  plea- 
sure upon  that  beautiful  tree."  "  I  have  pleasure  in  looking 
upon  it  no  more,"  said  the  Indian  hastily,  and  immediately 
added,  "  Go,  return  back,  that  thy  father  may  still  have 
pleasure  when  he  sees  the  sun  rise  in  the  morning,  and  the 
trees  blossom  in  the  spring." 


BOWL    OF    PUNCH  DRANK  ON    THE   TOP    OP    POMPEY  S 
PILLAR. 

POMPEY'S  PILLAR  is  situated  about  a  quarter  of  a  league 
from  the  southern  gate  of  Alexandria,  a  city  of  Lower  Egypt, 
and  once  its  capital.  It  is  composed  of  red  granite ;  the 
capital  which  is  nine  feet  high,  is  Corinthian,  with  palm 
leaves,  and  not  indented.  The  shaft  and  the  upper  member 
of  the  base  are  of  one  piece  of  granite,  ninety  feet  long,  and 
nine  feet  in  diameter.  The  base,  which  is  one  solid  block  of 


134  THE    MUSEUM. 

marble,  fifteen  feet  square,  rests  on  two  layers  of  stone, 
bound  together  with  lead.  The  whole  column  is  one  hun- 
dred and  fourteen  feet  high.  It  is  perfectly  well  polished, 
and  only  a  little  shivered  on  the  eastern  side.  Nothing  can 
equal  the  majesty  of  this  monument  which  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance overtops  the  town,  and  seems  as  a  signal  for  vessels. 
Approaching  it  nearer,  Pompey's  pillar  produces  astonish- 
ment mixed  with  awe :  and  the  beauty  of  the  capital,  the 
length  of  the  shaft,  and  the  extraordinary  simplicity  of  the 
pedestal  excite  the  admiration  of  all  travellers. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  mere  admiration  that  a  party  of 
English  midshipmen  and  sailors  confined  themselves.  These 
jolly  sons  of  Neptune  had  been  pushing  the  can  about  on 
board  their  ship,  in  the  harbor  of  Alexandria,  until  a  strange 
freak  entered  into  one  of  their  brains.  The  eccentricity  of 
the  thought  occasioned  it  immediately  to  be  adopted ;  and 
its  apparent  impossibility  was  but  a  spur  for  the  putting  it 
into  execution.  The  boat  was  ordered  ;  and  with  proper 
implements  for  the  attempt,  these  enterprising  heroes  pushed 
ashore,  to  drink  a  bowl  of  punch  on  the  top  of  Pompey's 
Pillar  !  At  the  spot  they  arrived  ;  and  many  contrivances 
were  proposed  to  accomplish  the  desired  point.  But  their 
labor  was  in  vain  ;  and  they  began  to  despair  of  success, 
when  the  genius  who  struck  out  the  frolic,  happily  suggested 
the  means  of  performing  it.  A  man  was  despatched  to  the 
city  for  a  paper  kite.  The  inhabitants  were  by  this  time 
apprised  of  what  was  going  forward,  and  flocked  in  crowds 
to  be  witnesses  of  the  address  and  boldness  of  the  English. 

The  governor  of  Alexandria  was  told  that  these  seamen 
were  about  to  pull  down  Pompey's  Pillar.  But  whether  he 
gave  them  credit  for  their  respect  to  the  Roman  warrior,  or 
to  the  Turkish  government,  he  left  them  to  themselves ;  and 
politely  answered,  that  the  English  were  too  great  patriots  to 
injure  the  remains  of  Pompey.  He  knew  little,  however,  of 
the  disposition  of  the  people  who  were  engaged  in  this  un- 
dertaking. Had  the  Turkish  empire  risen  in  opposition,  it 
would  not  at  that  moment  have  deterred  them.  The  kite 
was  brought,  and  flown  so  directly  over  the  pillar,  that  when 
it  fell  on  the  other  side,  the  string  lodged  upon  the  capital. 
The  chief  obstacle  was  now  overcome.  A  two  inch  rope 
was  tied  to  one  end  of  the  string,  and  drawn  over  the  pillar 


SAILORS    ON    THE   TOP    OF    POMPKY S    PILLAR. 

See  page  134,  vol.  II. 


THE    MUSEUM.  185 

by  the  end  to  which  the  kite  was  affixed.  By  this  rope  one 
of  the  seamen  ascended  to  the  top  ;  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  a  kind  of  shroud  was  constructed,  by  which  the  whole 
company  went  up,  and  drank  their  punch  amid  the  shouts 
of  the  astonished  multitude.  To  the  eye  below,  the  capital 
of  the  pillar  does  not  appear  capable  of  holding  more  than 
one  man  upon  it ;  but  the  seaman  found  it  could  contain  no 
less  than  eight  persons  very  conveniently.  It  is  astonishing 
that  no  accident  befell  these  madcaps,  in  a  situation  so  ele- 
vated, that  it  would  have  turned  a  landman  giddy  in  his 
sober  senses.  The  only  detriment  which  the  pillar  received 
was  the  loss  of  a  volute,  which  fell  down  and  was  brought 
to  England  by  one  of  the  captains.  The  sailors  after  paint- 
ing the  initials  of  their  names  in  large  letters,  just  beneath 
the  capital,  descended,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the 
Turks,  who  to  this  day  speak  of  it  as  the  madcap  experi- 
ment. 


FIRE    AT    BURWELL. 

THIS  horrible  catastrophe  took  place  on  September  8, 
1727,  in  a  barn  at  Burwell,  in  Cambridgeshire,  while  the 
inhabitants  were  assembled  to  see  a  puppet-show. 

The  walls  of  the  barn,  the  melancholy  scene  of  this  terri- 
ble calamity,  were  of  a  great  thickness,  no  less  than  nine- 
teen inches  ;  and,  as  they  were  of  great  thickness,  so  they 
were  of  great  strength,  being  built  of  chinch  stones,  as  they 
are  called  in  that  country,  cemented  by  mortar,  as  appears 
by  the  present  remains,  one  side  and  one  end  of  the  barn. 
The  height  of  the  walls  was  nine  feet,  the  height  of  the 
roof,  which  was  entirely  of  thatch,  was  seventeen  feet  and 
six  inches,  the  length  of  the  barn  was  forty-five  feet,  and 
the  breadth  of  it  was  sixteen  feet  and  three  quarters,  exclu- 
sive of  the  walls. 

About  one-third  of  the  barn  was  empty,  and  was  there- 
fore pitched  upon  for  the  puppet-show  ;  the  other  two-thirds, 
or  thereabout,  were  filled  with  oat-straw,  bound  up  in  large 
trusses,  reaching  as  high  at  least  as  the  walls,  though  not  so 
high  as  the  roof.  Adjoining  to  the  barn,  and  only  separated 

38* 


186  THE    MUSEUM. 

by  a  partition  of  lath  and  plaster,  and  this  partition  rising 
no  higher  than  ihe  walls,  arid  not  to  the  roof  of  the  building, 
was  a  stable  with  a  hay-loft,  between  which  stable  and  the 
"place  where  the  multitude  were  assembled  for  the  show, 
were  heaped  the  bundles  of  oat-straw,  so  that  the  barn  and 
stable  were  one  common  thatched  roof,  could  scarcely  be 
said  to  be  parted  from  one  another,  and  the  trusses  of  straw 
lying  between  the  stable  and  the  place  for  the  exhibition  of 
the  show,  in  a  manner  connected  them  together. 

In  the  stable  were  two  horses  belonging  to  Mr.  Shepherd, 
the  master  of  the  puppet-show.  The  ostler,  belonging  to 
the  proprietor  of  the  barn,  one  Richard  Whitaker,  coming 
with  a  candle  and  lantern,  it  being  then  about  nine  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  to  feed  the  horses,  found  that  the  puppet- 
show  was  begun,  and  was  desirous  to  see  it,  without  paying 
the  penny,  the  price  of  the  entertainment.  Upon  his  being 
refused  admittance  into  the  barn,  unless  he  would  advance 
the  same  with  others,  and  he  not  choosing  to  do  it,  repaired 
to  the  stable,  went  into  the  hay-loft  with  the  candie  and  lan- 
tern, and  threw  down  from  an  opening  from  the  hay-loft  in- 
to the  stable,  a  quantity  of  hay  into  the  rack,  and  became, 
by  the  candle  he  carried  with  him,  either  the  intentional 
wicked  cause,  or  the  unhappy  occasion  of  the  dreadful  fire 
which  presently  ensued. 

Mr.  Howe,  the  narrator,  who  was  seated  upon  a  beam  in 
the  barn,  could,  from  his  situation,  take  a  view  across  the 
straw  to  the  hay-loft,  and  saw  the  fire,  when  it  was  so  small 
as  that  he  thinks  he  could  have  enclosed  it  in  his  hands, 
but  the  flame  kindling  in  the  hay-loft,  so  near  the  roof,  the 
roof  being  common,  as  has  been  observed,  to  the  stable  and 
barn,  and  being  all  of  thatch,  and  the  thatch  being  very 
dry,  the  preceding  summer  having  been  remarkable  for  its 
drought,  and  being  covered  also  with  old  dry  cobwebs,  un- 
happily the  fire,  as  the  parish  register  expresses  it,  "  like 
lightning,  flew  round  the  barn  in  an  instant." 

The  multitude  rushed  towards  the  door,  which  unhappily 
was  so  narrow  as  that  it  was  only  three  feet  in  breadth,  in- 
cluding the  posts.  Besides  this,  the  door  opened  inwards, 
was  fast  hasped  by  an  iron  staple,  and  was  blocked  up  by  an 
oval  table,  upon  which  some  slight-of-hand  tricks  had  been 
exhibited  in  a  preface  to  the  show,  and  which,  after  there 


THE    MUSEUM.  187 

was  no  more  use  for  it,  was  placed  against  the  door  merely 
to  save  room,  as  the  place  was  but  straight  for  the  company. 
The  door  being  thus  not  only  small,  but  also  fastened  and 
blocked  up,  the  pressure  of  the  multitude  was  so  great,  that 
they  were  presently  thrown  in  heaps,  one  upon  another.  In 
a  short  time,  if  time  can  be  called  short  in  such  circumstan- 
ces, the  door  was  broken  up  by  Mr.  Thomas  Dobodee,  of 
Wicken,  in  Cambridgeshire,  a  very  stout  man,  in  the  prime 
of  life,  and  who,  being  at  that  time  in  Burwell,  came  and 
gave  his  assistance.  Upon  breaking  up  the  door,  he  with 

all  his  might  drew  out  as  many  as  he  could  from  the  tre- 

i  • 

mendous  ruin. 

When  the  door  was  broken  up,  Mr.  Thomas  Howe  leap- 
ed down  from  the  beam  on  which  he  was  sitting,  upon  the 
crowd  below,  pressed  and  clustered  together,  and  lying  upon 
one  another  as  he  believes  to  the  depth  of  three  or  four  feet. 

If  like  events,  producing  like  effects,  will  be  of  any  ser- 
vice in  this  case,  a  well  attested  fact  may  be  related,  which 
happened  not  very  long  since,  at  a  place  called  Bottisham- 
Load,  not  many  miles  from  Burwell.  A  Methodist  was 
preaching  in  a  barn  to  a  great  concourse  of  people.  A  loose 
idle  fellow,  and  who  well  deserved  punishment  for  his  wicked 
sport,  put  a  lighted  pipe  into  a  hole  or  crevice  of  the  barn, 
whence  issued,  it  may  be  supposed  by  his  blowing,  some 
sparks  of  fire.  These  being  perceived  by  some  of  the  con- 
gregation, immediately  the  alarm  of  fire  was  given.  The 
people  in  the  inner  part  of  the  barn,  in  their  violent  hurry, 
pushed  down  the  persons  that  stood  near  the  barn-door, 
others,  as  may  be  supposed,  pushed  them  down,  &c.  &c.  till 
in  a  little  time  the  multitude  lay,  piled  heaps  upon  heaps,  to 
the  depth  of  several  feet.  A  person,  who  was  present  observ- 
ed, that  he  verily  believed,  had  the  barn  taken  fire,  notwith- 
stading  the  door  was  open,  several  of  the  congregation  must 
have  lost  their  lives.  One  person  in  particular,  whom  he 
well  knew,  a  stout  man,  was  instantly  thrown  down,  and 
was  so  pressed  by  the  throng  that  lay  upon  him  that  he  was 
utterly  unable  to  extricate  himself.  Decency,  friendship,  and 
civility  are  all  lost,  and  violence  is  more  than  violence,  and 
strength  more  than  strength,  when  death  immediately  threat- 
ens us  in  its  most  formidable  shapes :  but  to  return  to  the 
former  fire — 


188  THE    MUSEUM. 

At  length,  in  about  half  an  hour  from  the  time  the  fire 
began,  down  descended  the  thatch  of  a  roof  seventeen  feet 
and  a  half  in  height,  no  doubt  in  the  fiercest  blaze,  upon  the 
helpless,  hopeless  creatures,  and  not.  improbably  the  trusses 
of  straw,  when  their  bands  were  burnt,  rolled  down  upon 
them  in  so  many  volumes  of  flame,  and  thus  one  ruin  was 
heaped  upon  another. 

The  horror,  the  anguish,  the  cries,  the  shrieks  of  the  suf- 
ferers, were  now  soon  ended  in  one  universal  silence  and 
death.  A  catastrophe  how  inconceivably  terrible  !  In  the 
morning  what  a  hideous  view  of  skulls,  bones,  carnage,  &c. 
The  tender  reader  cannot  bear  the  description  and  the  writer 
is  not  inclined  to  give  it.  The  mangled,  shocking  relics  were 
gathered  up,  shovelled  into  carts,  and  buried  in  two  large  pits 
dug  for  that  purpose  in  the  church-yard. 

The  consternation  and  distress  of  the  inhabitants  of  Bur- 
well,  and  the  neighboring  towns  and  hamlets  of  Swaffham- 
Prior,  Reche,  and  Upware,  each  of  which  contributed  its 
part  to  the  number  of  sufferers,  must  be  great  beyond  all 
imagination.  Here  were  parents  bewailing  the  loss  of  their 
children,  here  children  bewailing  the  loss  of  their  parents, 
husbands  mourning  for  their  wives,  wives  for  their  husbands, 
brothers  lamenting  for  their  sisters,  and  sisters  for  their  bro- 
thers ;  what  faces  pale  with  terror,  what  knees  smiting  one 
against  another,  what  floods  of  tears,  what  wringing  of  hands, 
what  beating  bosoms,  and  what  heart-piercing  shrieks,  and 
cries,  and  groans !  To  increase  the  calamity,  the  flames 
from  the  barn  spread  themselves,  and  burnt  down  five  houses 
in  the  neighborhood. 

Eighty-three  perished  on  the  spot,  two  died  afterwards, 
and  one  woman  was  burnt  in  one  of  the  houses.  Among 
them  was  the  master  of  the  show,  his  wife,  daughter,  and 
man,  three  children  of  two  families,  and  two  children  o( 
eight  families,  and  one  or  more  individuals  of  every  family 
in  Burwell,  and  the  adjoining  hamlets. 

The  ostler  was  committed  to  prison  and  tried  at  the  sub- 
sequent assizes,  but  nothing  proved  against  him.  A  fanati- 
cal preacher,  however,  in  a  subsequent  sermon,  asserted, 
that  it  was  not  the  natural  and  inevitable  progress  of  the 
flames  that  destroyed  these  unfortunate  people,  but  the 
special  vengeance  of  God,  as  a  punishment  for  their  sins, 


THE     MUSEUM.  189 

one  of  which  was,  that  of  attending  a  puppet  show ;  while 
those  who  escaped  by  their  personal  energy,  were  (for  some 
reason  unknown  to  this  fanatic,)  saved  by  a  miracle !  This 
hypocritical  blasphemer  forgot  that  "  those  on  whom  the 
tower  of  Siloam  fell  and  slew,  were  not  the  wickedest  in  all 
Israel." 


UNCOMMON    SELF-POSSESSION. 

ON  the  banks  of  the  Naugatuc,  a  rapid  stream  which  ri- 
ses in  and  flows  through  a  very  mountainous  part  of  the  state 
of  Connecticut,  a  few  years  since,  lived  a  respectable  family 
named  Bruel.  The  father,  though  not  a  wealthy,  was  a  re- 
spectable man.  He  had  fought  the  battles  of  his  country  in 
the  Revolution,  and  from  his  familiarity  with  scenes  of  dan- 
ger and  peril,  he  had  learned  that  it  is  always  more  pru- 
dent to  preserve  and  affect  the  air  of  confidence  in  danger, 
than  to  betray  signs  of  fear :  and  especially  so,  since  his 
conduct  might  have  had  great  influence  upon  the  minds  of 
those  about  him.  He  had  occasion  to  send  a  little  son  across 
the  river  to  the  house  of  a  relation,  and  as  there  was  then 
no  bridge  the  river  must  be  forded.  The  lad  was  familiar 
with  every  part  of  the  fording  place,  and  when  the  water 
was  low,  which  was  at  this  time  the  case,  could  cross  with- 
out danger.  But  he  had  scarcely  arrived  at  his  place  of  des- 
tination, and  done  his  errand,  when  suddenly,  as  is  frequent- 
ly the  case  in  mountainous  countries,  the  heavens  became 
black  with  clouds,  the  wind  blew  with  great,  violence,  and 
the  rain  fell  in  torrents — it  was  near  night,  and  became  ex- 
ceedingly dark.  By  the  kindness  of  his  friends  he  was  per- 
suaded, though  with  some  reluctance,  to  relinquish  his  de- 
sign of  returning  in  the  evening,  and  to  wait  until  morning. 
The  father  suspected  the  cause  of  his  delay,  and  was  not 
over  anxious  on  account  of  any  accidents  that  migh  happen 
to  him  during  the  night.  But  he  knew  that  he  had  taught 
his  son  to  render  implicit  obedience  to  his  father's  commands ; 
that  he  possessed  a  daring  and  fearless  spirit,  and  would 
never  be  restrained  but  by  force  ;  he  would,  as  soon  as  it 
should  be  sufficiently  light  in  the  morning,  attempt  to  ford 


190  THE    MUSEUM. 

the  river  on  his  return.  He  knew  also,  that  the  immense 
quantity  of  water  that  appeared  to  be  falling-,  would,  by 
morning,  cause  the  river  to  rise  to  a  considerable  height,  and 
make  it  dangerous  even  for  a  man  in  the  full  possession  of 
strength  and  fortitude,  to  attempt  to  cross  it.  He  therefore 
passed  a  sleepless  night,  anticipating  with  all  a  father's  feel- 
ings what  might  befall  his  child  in  the  morning. 

The  day  dawned — the  storm  had  ceased — the  wind  was 
still,  and  nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the  roar  of  the  wa- 
ters of  the  river.  The  rise  of  the  river  exceeded  even  the 
father's  expectations,  and  no  sooner  was  it  sufficiently  light 
to  enable  him  to  distinguish  objects  across  it,  than  he  pla- 
ced himself  on  the  bank  to  watch  for  the  approach  of  his 
son.  The  son  arrived  at  the  opposite  shore  almost  at  the 
same  moment,  and  was  beginning  to  enter  the  stream.  All 
the  father's  feelings  were  roused  into  action,  for  he  knew  that 
his  son  was  in  the  most  imminent  danger.  He  had  proceed- 
ed too  far  to  return — in  fact,  to  go  forward  or  return  was  to 
incur  the  same  peril.  His  horse  had  arrived  in  the  deepest 
part  of  the  channel,  and  was  struggling  against  the  current, 
down  which  he  was  rapidly  hurried,  and  apparently  making 
but  little  progress  towards  the  shore.  The  boy  became  alarm- 
ed, and  raising  his  eyes  towards  the  landing  place,  he  dis- 
covered his  father.  He  exclaimed,  almost  frantic  with  fear, 
"  O,  I  shall  drown,  I  shall  drown  !"  "  No  !'?  exclaimed  the 
father  in  a  stern  and  resolute  tone,  and  dismissing  for  a  mo- 
ment his  feelings  of  tenderness,  "  No,  if  you  do,  I'll  whip 
you  to  death  ! — cling  to  your  horse."  The  son,  who  feared 
his  father  more  than  the  raging  element  with  which  he  was 
enveloped,  obeyed  his  command,  and  the  noble  animal  on 
which  he  was  mounted,  after  struggling  for  some  time,  car- 
ried him  safe  to  the  shore.  "My son," said  the  glad  father, 
bursting  into  tears,  "  remember,  hereafter,  that  in  danger  you 
must  possess  fortitude  ;  and  determining  to  survive  cling 
even  to  the  last  hope.  Had  I  addressed  you  with  the  tender 
ness  and  fear  which  I  felt,  your  fate  was  inevitable ;  you 
would  have  been  carried  away  in  the  current,  and  I  should 
have  seen  you  no  more."  What  an  example  is  here?  The 
heroism,  bravery,  philosophy  and  presence  of  mind  of  this 
man,  even  eclipses  the  conduct  of  Caesar,  when  he  said  to 
his  boatmen,  quid  times  Casarem  vehis. 


MAUIOK,    THE    REPUBLICAN    GENERAL. 
Sec  pace  1*0,  ">L  I. 


THE    MUSEUM.  191 


TRAGICAL    FATE    OF    HURTADO    AND    MIRANDA. 

As  an  introduction  to  this  story,  it  is  proper  to  observe, 
that  Gabot,  a  Spanish  general  and  admiral,  one  of  the  first 
who  was  employed  in  the  reduction  of  Paraguay,  finding 
his  presence  necessary  in  that  country,  instead  of  return- 
ing to  Spain,  as  he  had  proposed,  sent  oft'  Fernand  Calde- 
ron,  a  treasurer  of  his  fleet,  with  all  the  silver  he  had 
collected,  and  a  letter  for  the  emperor,  giving  an  account 
of  every  thing  he  had  seen  and  done :  pointing  out  the 
most  proper  measures  for  securing  the  country  to  the 
crown  of  Castile ;  and  beseeching  his  majesty  to  send 
him  sufficient  succor  for  that  purpose.  Two  years,  how- 
ever, having  elapsed  without  Gabot's  hearing  any  thing  of 
the  report  Calderon  was  to  make  of  his  good  dispositions, 
he  thought  it  his  duty  to  return  to  Spain,  lest  any  longer 
delay  might  give  the  Portuguese  a  desire,  and  afford  them 
an  opportunity  to  return  to  Paraguay.  Having,  therefore, 
named  Nuno  de  Lara  to  the  government  of  the  fort  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  during  his  absence ;  and  left  him  one 
hundred  and  twenty  men,  and  all  the  provisions  he  could 
amass  ;  he  set  out  to  join  his  squadron,  and  immediately 
put  to  sea. 

Lara,  on  his  side,  seeing  himself  surrounded  by  nations, 
from  whom  he  could  expect  no  respect  but  in  proportion 
as  he  could  command  it,  thought  the  best  thing  he  could 
do,  would  be  to  gain  over  those  nearest  to  him,  who 
were  the  Timbuez ;  and  he  succeeded  pretty  well  in  the 
attempt.  But  his  success  soon  proved  fatal  to  him,  in  a 
manner  he  little  dreamed  of.  Mangora,  Cacique  of  the 
Timbuez,  happening  in  one  of  the  frequent  visits  he  paid 
Lara,  to  see  Lucy  Miranda,  a  Spanish  lady,  and  wife  of 
Sebastian  Hurtado,  one  of  the  principal  officers  of  the 
fort,  became  deeply  enamored  of  her.  It  was  not  long 
before  she  perceived  it,  and,  knowing  what  she  had  to 
fear  from  a  barbarian,  with  whom  it  was  so  much  the 
commander's  interest  to  live  upon  good  terms,  she  did 
all  that  lay  in  her  power  not  to  be  seen  any  more  by 
him,  and  to  guard  against  any  violence  or  surprise.  Man- 
gora, on  his  side,  thinking  that,  if  he  could  but  get  her 


192  THE    MUSEUM. 

into  his  habitation,  he  might  dispose  of  her  as  he  pleased, 
often  invited  Hurtado  to  come  and  see  him,  and  bring 
his  wife  along  with  him.  But  Hurtado  as  often  begged 
to  be  excused,  alleging  that  he  could  not  be  absent 
himself  from  the  fort  without  the  commander's  leave  ;  and 
that  he  was  sure  he  should  never  be  able  to  obtain  it. 

Such  an  answer  as  this  was  enough  to  let  the  Cacique 
see,  that,  to  succeed  in  his  designs  upon  the  wife,  he  must 
first  get  rid  of  the  husband.  While  he  was,  therefore, 
considering  the  ways  and  means  of  doing  it,  he  got  intelli- 
gence that  the  husband  had  been  detached  with  another 
officer,  and  fifty  soldiers,  to  collect  provisions.  Looking 
upon  this,  therefore,  as  a  favorable  opportunity,  since  it 
not  only  removed  the  husband,  but  weakened  the  garrison, 
by  which  the  wife  might  expect  to  be  protected,  he  posted 
four  thousand  picked  men  in  a  marsh  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  fort,  and  set  out  for  it,  with  thirty  others,  loaded  with 
refreshments.  On  his  arrival  at  the  gates  of  it,  he  sent 
word  to  Lara,  that  hearing  how  much  he  was  in  want  of 
provisions,  he  was  come  with  enough  to  serve  him  till  the 
return  of  the  convoy.  Lara  received  the  treacherous  Ca- 
cique with  the  greatest  demonstrations  of  gratitude,  and 
insisted  upon  entertaining  him  and  his  followers.  This 
was  what  Mangora  had  expected ;  and  he  had,  accord- 
ingly given  his  men  instructions  how  to  behave,  and  ap- 
pointed signals  for  those  he  had  posted  in  the  marsh. 

The  entertainment  began  with  a  great  deal  of  cheerful- 
ness on  both  sides,  and  lasted  till  the  night  was  far  ad- 
vanced ;  when  the  Spaniards  rising  to  break  up,  Mangora 
gave  some  of  his  attendants  the  signal  for  doing  what  he 
had  before-hand  directed  ;  which  was  to  set  fire  to  the  ma- 
gazines of  the  fort,  as  soon  as  the  Spaniards  should  be  re- 
tired. This  was  accordingly  done,  without  the  Spaniards 
having  the  least  suspicion  of  the  matter.  The  officers  were 
scarcely  composed  to  rest,  when,  most  of  them  being 
alarmed  by  the  soldiers  crying  out  fire  !  fire  !  and  jumping 
out  of  bed  to  extinguish  it,  the  Indians  seized  the  opportu- 
nity of  dispatching  them.  The  rest  were  killed  in  their 
sleep ;  and  the  four  thousand  men  posted  in  the  marsh, 
having  been  at  the  same  time  let  into  the  fort,  it  was  im- 
mediately filled  with  slaughter  and  confusion.  The  go- 


THE     MUSEUM.  193 

vernor,  though  wounded,  having  espied  the  treacherous 
Cacique,  made  up  to  him,  and  ran  him  through  the  body ; 
but,  being  more  intent  upon  satisfying  his  revenge,  than 
consulting  his  safety,  he  continued  so  long  venting  his  now 
useless  fury  on  the  dead  body  of  his  enemy,  that  the  Indi- 
ans had  time  to  intercept  his  flight ;  and  immediately  dis- 
patched him. 

There  now  remained  no  living  soul  in  the  fort,  but  the 
unfortunate  Miranda,  the  innocent  cause  of  so  bloody  a 
tragedy,  four  other  women,  and  as  many  little  children, 
who  were  all  tied  and  brought  before  Siripa,  brother  and 
successor  to  the  late  Cacique.  This  barbarian,  at  the  sight 
of  Miranda,  conceived  the  same  passion  for  her  that  had 
proved  fatal  to  his  brother,  and  ordered  her  to  be  unbound, 
relinquishing  to  his  attendants  all  the  other  prisoners.  He 
then  told  her,  that  she  must  not  consider  herself  as  a  slave 
in  his  house  ;  and  that  it  would  even  be  her  own  fault  if  she 
did  not  become  the  mistress  of  it ;  and  that  he  hoped  she 
had  sense  enough  to  prefer  to  an  indigent  and  forlorn  hus- 
band, the  head  of  a  powerful  nation,  who  would  take  plea- 
sure in  submitting  to  her  himself  and  all  his  subjects.  Mi- 
randa might  well  expect  that,  by  refusing  the  offers,  she 
would  expose  herself,  at  best,  to  a  perpetual  and  most  cruel 
slavery,  but  her  virtue  got  the  better  of  every  other  consi- 
deration. She  even  gave  Siripa  the  answer  she  thought 
most  likely  to  exasperate  him,  in  hopes  his  love  might 
change  into  fury,  and  a  speedy  death  put  her  innocence 
and  honor  beyond  the  reach  of  his  brutal  intentions. 

But  in  this  she  was  greatly  mistaken.  Her  refusal  served 
only  to  increase  the  desire  Siripa  had  conceived  for  her, 
and  heightened  his  passion,  which  he  still  flattered  himself 
he  should  be  at  last  able  to  satisfy.  He  continued,  there- 
fore, to  treat  her  with  a  great  deal  of  lenity,  and  even 
showed  her  more  civility  and  respect,  than  could  be  well 
expected  from  a  barbarian.  But  his  moderation  and  gen- 
tleness served  only  to  make  her  more  sensible  of  the  dan- 
ger she  was  exposed  to.  In  the  mean  time  Hurtado,  being 
returned  with  his  convoy,  was  greatly  surprised  to  behold 
nothing  but  a  heap  of  ashes.  The  first  thing  he  did  was, 
to  inquire  what  was  become  of  his  wife ;  and  being  in- 
formed she  was  with  the  Cacique  of  the  Timbuez,  he  in> 

39 


194  THE     MUSEUM. 

mediately  set  out  to  look  for  her,  without  considering  what 
dangers  he  thereby  fruitlessly  exposed  himself  to.  Siripa, 
at  the  sight  of  a  man,  who  was  the  sole  object  of  all  Miran- 
da's affections,  could  no  longer  contain  himself,  but  order- 
ed him  to  be  tied  to  a  tree  and  shot  to  death  with  arrows. 
His  attendants  were  preparing  to  obey  him,  when  Mi- 
randa, drowned  in  tears,  threw  herself  at  the  tyrant's  feet, 
to  obtain  the  life  of  her  husband  ;  and,  such  is  the  power 
of  a  passionate  affection,  it  calmed  the  violent  storm, 
which  it  had  but  a  little  before  excited  in  the  heart  of  this 
barbarian.  Hurtado  was  unbound  ;  he  was  even  some- 
times permitted  to  see  his  wife.  But  the  Cacique,  at  the 
same  time  he  thus  indulged  them,  gave  them  to  understand, 
that  they  must  not,  on  pain  of  death,  attempt  to  go  any 
further  lengths.  It  is  therefore  probable  he  only  meant 
this  indulgence  as  a  snare  to  obtain  a  pretext  for  recalling 
the  conditional  respite  he  had  granted  Hurtado,  who  soon 
supplied  him  with  one.  A  few  days  after,  Siripa's  wife 
came  to  inform  him  that  Miranda  was  laid  down  with  her 
husband ;  the  barbarian  ran  immediately  to  examine  the 
truth  of  the  report  with  his  own  eyes ;  and,  in  the  first 
emotion  of  his  passion,  and  more  to  the  satisfaction  of 
his  wife's  jealousy  than  his  own,  he  condemned  Miranda 
to  the  flames,  and  Hurtado  to  the  same  kind  of  death  he 
had  but  lately  escaped.  The  sentence  was  immediately 
executed,  and  this  faithful  pair  expired  in  sight  of  each 
other,  full  of  sentiments  worthy  of  their  virtues. — Father 
Charlevoix's  History  of  Paraguay. 


THE  SHARK  SENTINEL. 

WITH  my  companion,  one  beautiful  afternoon,  ram- 
bling over  the  rocky  cliffs  at  the  back  of  the  island,  (New 
Providence,  W.  I.,)  we  came  to  a  spot  where  the  stillness 
and  the  clear  transparency  of  the  water  invited  us  to 
bathe.  It  was  not  deep.  As  we  stood  above,  on  the 
promontory,  we  could  see  the  bottom  in  every  part. 
Under  the  headland,  which  formed  the  opposite  side  of 
the  coye.  there  was  a  cavern,  to  which,  as  the  shore  was 
steep,  there  was  no  access  but  by  swimming,  and  we 
resolved  to  explore  it.  We  soon  reached  its  mouth,  ana 


THE     MUSEUM  195 

were  enchanted  with  its  romantic  grandeur  and  wild 
beauty.  It  extended,  we  found,  a  long  way  back,  and 
had  several  natural  baths,  into  all  of  which  w::  succes- 
sively threw  ourselves  ;  each,  as  they  receded  further 
from  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  being  colder  than  the  last. 
The  tide,  it  was  evident,  had  free  ingress,  and  renewed 
the  water  every  twelve  hours.  Here  we  thoughtlessly 
amused  ourselves  for  sometime. 

At  length  the  declining  sun  warned  us  that  it  was  time 
to  take  our  departure  from  the  cave,  when,  at  no  great 
distance  from  us,  we  saw  the  back  or  dorsal  fin  of  a  mon- 
strous shark  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  his  whole 
length  visible  beneath  it.  We  looked  at  him  and  at  each 
other  in  dismay,  hoping  that  he  would  soon  take  his  de- 
parture, and  go  in  search  of  other  prey  ;  but  the  rogue 
swam  to  and  fro,  just  like  a  frigate  blockading  an  enemy's 
port,  and  we  felt,  I  suppose,  very  much  as  we  used  to 
make  the  French  and  Dutch  feel  the  last  war,  at  Brest 
and  the  Texel. 

The  sentinel  paraded  before  us,  about  ten  or  fifteen 
yards  in  front  of  the  cave,  tack  and  tack,  waiting  only  to 
serve  one,  if  not  both  of  us,  as  we  should  have  served  a 
shrimp  or  an  oyster.  We  had  no  intention,  however,  in 
this,  as  in  other  instances,  of  "  throwing  ourselves  on  the 
mercy  of  the  court."  In  vain  did  we  look  for  relief  from 
other  quarters  ;  the  promontory  above  us  was  inacces- 
sible ;  the  tide  was  rising,  and  the  sun  touching  the  clear, 
blue  edge  of  the  horizon. 

I,  being  the  leader,  pretended  to  a  little  knowledge  in 
ichthyology,  and  told  my  companion  that  fish  could  hear 
as  well  as  see,  and  that  therefore  the  less  we  said  the  bet- 
ter ;  and  the  sooner  we  retreated  out  of  his  sight,  the 
sooner  he  would  take  himself  ofF.  This  was  our  only 
chance,  and  that  a  poor  one  ;  for  the  flow  of  the  water 
would  soon  have  enabled  him  to  enter  the  cave  and  help 
himself,  as  he  seemed  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  locale, 
and  Knew  that  we  had  no  mode  of  retreat,  but  by  the 
way  we  came.  We  drew  back  out  of  sight,  and  I  don't 
know  when  I  ever  passed  a  more  unpleasant  quarter  of 
an  hour.  A  suit  in  chancery,  or  even  a  spring  lounge  at 
Newgate,  would  have  been  almost  a  luxury  to  what  I 
felt  when  the  shades  of  night  began  to  darken  the  mouth 


196  THE    MUSEUM. 

of  our  cave,  and  this  infernal  monster  continued  to  pa 
rade,  like  a  water-bailiff,  before  its  door.  At  last,  not  see 
ing  the  shark's  fin  above  the  water,  I  made  a  sign  to 
Charles,  that  cost  what  it  might,  we  must  swim  for  it,  for 
we  had  notice  to  quit  by  the  tide  ;  and  if  we  did  not  de- 
part, should  soon  have  an  execution  in  the  house.  We 
had  been  careful  not  to  utter  a  word,  and,  silently  press- 
ing each  other  by  the  hand,  we  slipped  into  the  water ; 
and,  recommending  ourselves  to  Providence,  we  struck 
out  manfuily.  I  must  own  I  never  felt  more  assured  of 
destruction,  not  even  when  I  once  swam  through  the 
blood  of  a  poor  sailor — while  the  sharks  were  eating 
him — for  the  sharks  then  had  something  to  occupy  them; 
but  this  one  had  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  look  after  us. 
We  had  the  benefit  of  his  undivided  attention. 

My  sensations  were  indescribably  horrible.  I  may  oc- 
casionally write  or  talk  of  the  circumstance  with  levity, 
but  whenever  I  recall  it  to  rnind,  I  tremble  at  the  bare 
recollection  of  the  dreadful  fate  that  seemed  inevitable. 
My  companion  was  not  so  expert  a  swimmer  as  I  was,  so 
that  I  distanced  him  many  feet,  when  I  heard  him  utter 
a  faint  cry.  I  turned  round,  convinced  that  the  shark 
had  seized  him,  but  it  was  not  so  ;  my  having  left  him  so 
far  behind  had  increased  his  terror,  and  induced  him  to 
draw  my  attention.  I  returned  to  him,  held  him  up, 
and  encouraged  him.  Without  this  he  would  certainly 
have  sunk  ;  he  revived  with  my  help,  and  we  reached  the 
sandy  beach  in  safety,  having  eluded  our  enemy,  who, 
when  he  neither  saw  or  heard  us,  had,  as  I  concluded  he 
would,  quitted  the  spot. 

Once  more  on  terra  firma,  we  lay  gasping  for  some 
minutes  before  we  spoke.  What  my  companion's  thoughts 
were,  I  do  not  know ;  mine  were  replete  with  gratitude 
to  God,  and  renewed  vows  of  amendment ;  and  I  have 
every  reason  to  think,  that  although  Charles  had  not  so 
much  room  for  reform  as  myself,  that  his  feelings  were 
perfectly  in  unison  with  my  own.  We  never  afterwards 
repeated  this  amusement,  though  we  frequently  talked  of 
our  escape  and  laughed  at  our  terrors,  yet,  on  these  oc- 
casions, our  conversation  always  took  a  serious  turn ; 
and,  upon  the  whole,  I  am  convinced  that  this  adventure 
did  us  both  a  vast  deal  of  good 


THE    MUSEUM.  197 


MOSES  ADAMS,    HIGH  SHERIFF  OF  THE  COUNTV  OF  HANCOCK. 

ON  the  twelfth  of  May,  eighteen  hundred  and  fifteen, 
Mrs.  Mary  Adams,  wife  of  High  Sheriff  Moses  Adams, 
was  found  to  have  been  barbarously  murdered  in  her  own 
house,  in  Ellsworth,  Maine.  The  fact  was  first  discover- 
ed by  her  own  daughter,  a  little  girl,  who  immediately  gave 
the  alarm.  On  entering,  the  neighbors  found  the  deceased 
lying  on  her  right  side  on  the  kitchen  floor.  An  axe  was 
lying  near  her,  which  had  evidently  been  the  instrument 
of  slaughter.  There  was  a  mortal  wound  on  the  back 
part  of  the  head,  another  on  the  neck,  whence  it  appeared 
pieces  had  been  cut  entirely  out  by  repeated  blows,  and 
the  shoulder  was  broken.  The  jugular  vein  was  divided, 
and  some  points  of  the  vertebra  were  cut  wholly  away. 
Mrs.  Adarns  had  been  in  her  life  a  remarkably  mild,  amia- 
ble, and  discreet  lady,  and  this  horrible  butchery  created 
a  great  excitement,  as  may  easily  be  believed.  Circum- 
stances concurred  to  direct  suspicion  towards  her  husband, 
and  he  was  immediately  taken  into  custody.  On  the  fif- 
teenth of  June  he  was  arraigned  before  the  Supreme  Court 
and  pleaded  not  guilty. 

Sewell  E.  Tattle,  swore,  that  at  eight  in  the  morning  of 
the  day,  Mrs.  Adams  was  killed,  her  husband  walked  in 
the  yard  before  the  house,  entered,  went  out  again,  and 
walked  about  as  before.  Between  twelve  and  one  he 
came  home  to  dinner,  and  sat  by  the  window  to  cool  him- 
self. He  appeared  very  warm.  After  dinner  Tuttle  was 
cutting  wood,  when  Dr.  Adams  came  to  him,  and  bade  him 
go  for  meal  to  a  mill  about  two  miles.  While  he  was  get- 
ting the  bags  ready,  he  saw  the  Doctor  pass  from  the  house 
to  the  barn.  Then,  going  in,  he  saw  Mrs.  Adams  sitting 
at  the  table  in  the  kitchen.  Doctor  Adams  had  on  at  this 
time  his  coat  of  office — a  kind  of  uniform.  When  Tuttle 
got  back,  after  four  in  the  afternoon,  he  found  twenty  or 
thirty  people  assembled  in  the  house. 

Elizabeth  Rice  passed  by  Mr.  Adams'  house  at  two, 
past  meridian,  and  saw  Mrs.  Adams  sitting  at  the  window. 
She  spoke  to  Mrs.  Adams  and  passed  on.  When  she  re- 
turned she  heard  Mrs.  Adams  was  dead,  and  saw  a  crowd 

39* 


198  THE    MUSEUM. 

about  the  house.  She  entered  and  saw  the  Doctor  sitting 
on  the  side  of  the  bed.  He  asked  her  if  it  were  not  a 
dreadful  house.  Being  requested  by  one  of  the  family  to 
put  the  movables  in  some  safe  place,  she  set  about  it,  but 
found  the  tea-spoons  missing.  As  she  was  afterwards  go- 
ing home  she  found  a  newspaper  near  the  road  side,  but 
threw  it  away  again.  It  rained  that  night,  and  the  next 
morning  Mrs.  Rice  informed  a  Mr.  Nourse  where  the  news- 
paper lay.  He  got  and  dried  it.  At  the  request  of  Dr. 
Adams,  she  assisted  to  wash  his  family  linen,  among  which 
was  a  shirt  with  one  of  the  sleeves  stained,  whether  with 
perspiration  or  otherwise  she  could  not  tell. 

William  Ginn  saw  Dr.  Adams  on  board  a  sloop  at  a 
wharf  at  quarter  past  twelve.  While  Ginn  was  at  dinner, 
he  saw  the  Doctor  pass  towards  his  own  house.  After 
dinner  he  knocked  at  Ginn's  door,  and  asked  for  a  segar. 
After  that,  a  little  before  four,  a  woman  came  and  said 
that  Mrs.  Adams  was  dead.  Ginn  immediately  went  to 
the  house,  and  saw  the  corpse  m  the  condition  before  men- 
tioned. 

Seeing  Dr.  Adams  coming  towards  the  house,  Ginn  went 
forth  to  meet  him,  and  told  him  that  a  horrid  accident  had 
happened.  The  Doctor  dismounted  from  his  horse,  and 
as  he  entered  stepped  in  the  blood.  Aby-standeradvised 
him  not  to  step  in  the  blood,  to  which  he  replied,  "Why 
not  ?  It  cannot  hurt  her  now."  He  stepped  over  the  body, 
put  his  hand  on  it,  and  then  went  to  the  bed-room  door. 
An  open  desk  was  within.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  pocket 
and  exclaimed  "  My  pocket-book  is  gone  !"  Then  he  lifted 
the  axe,  looked  at  its  edge,  and  cried,  "  O  murderer  !  mur- 
derer !"  As  he  stooped  to  raise  the  body  Ginn  prevented 
him.  "  Why  not  ?"  said  he,  "  there  are  witnesses  enough 
who  have  seen  her."  The  body  was  then  raised  and  placed 
on  a  bed. 

Benjamin  Jourdan,  on  the  day  of  the  murder,  was  at 
work  in  a  field  near  Dr.  Adams'  house,  when  he  was  in- 
formed by  the  prisoner's  child  that  Mrs.  Adams  was  dead 
He  went  immediately  to  let  Dr.  Adams  know  the  fact,  and 
he  was  much  agitated  at  hearing  it. 

Between  two  and  three  o'clock,  Maria  Moore  saw  Doc- 
tor Adams  going  towards  the  house  (Mr.  Langdon's)  where 


THE    MUSEUM.  199 

Benjamin  Jourdan  found  him.  He  walked  very  fast ; 
faster  than  she  had  ever  seen  him  before  ;  and  as  he  went, 
he  turned  and  looked  several  times  towards  his  own 
house. 

Susan  Oakes  kept  a  school  near  Dr.  Adams'  house.  Be- 
tween two  and  three  o'clock  she  saw  the  prisoner  pass  the 
school,  walking  very  fast.  After  the  school  was  dismissed, 
as  she  was  in  the  field  hard  by,  she  heard  little  Mary  Adams 
scream,  and  say  her  mother  was  dead.  She  hastened  to  the 
house  and  found  Mrs.  Adams  dead,  but  not  yet  quite  cold. 
A  few  minutes  after,  Dr.  Adams  came  in,  and  exclaimed, 
"  O  horrid  murder !"  He  was  much  agitated,  took  his  little 
daughter  on  his  knees,  and  bade  her  imitate  the  good  ex- 
ample of  her  mother. 

It  will  be  observed,  that  where  the  evidence  of  more 
than  one  witness  proved  the  same  fact,  we  do  not  repeat, 
but  only  give  as  much  as  goes  to  establish  or  elucidate 
separate  facts. 

Alfred  Langdon  testified,  that  at  about  half  past  two,  he 
from  his  house  saw  Dr.  Adams  pass.  In  about  ten  minutes 
he  returned,  and  entered  the  kitchen  door.  He  had  so 
much  color  in  his  face,  and  perspired  so  freely  that  Lang- 
don noticed  it,  and  asked  him  where  he  had  been.  He  an- 
swered that  he  was  right  from  home,  and  that  it  was  a 
very  warm  day.  After  some  common-place  discourse, 
Adams  looked  at  the  clock  and  observed  that  it  was  three, 
but  Langdon  remarked  that  it  wanted  ten  minutes  of  that 
time.  Adams  then  took  up  an  old  newspaper,  and  by  the 
time  he  had  looked  over  it,  the  mail  arrived,  about  quarter 
past  four  o'clock.  Adams  assisted  Mr.  Langdon  to  open 
the  mail,  and  while  they  were  thus  occupied,  Jourdan  ar- 
rived with  the  news  of  Mrs.  Adam's  death. 

Mr.  Daniel  Adams,  on  hearing  of  the  murder,  went 
straightway  to  Dr.  Adam's  house,  and  found  him  sitting  by 
the  corpse,  on  the  bed  side.  The  Doctor  shook  hands  with 
him,  saying,  "  I  hope  you  are  my  friend,"  to  which  the  wit- 
ness replied,  "  Whatever  I  may  have  been  heretofore,  I  am 
now."  The  Doctor  then  asked  if  they  were  going  to  let 
the  wretch  who  did  the  deed  escape,  and  added,  that  it  was 
toward  night,  and  the  murderer  could  not  be  far  off.  The 
witness  told  the  prisoner  that  he  heard  he  had  been  robbed, 


200  THE    MUSEUM. 

to  which  he  assented  :  and  it  appeared  from  the  conversa- 
tion, that  fifteen  dollars  and  a  number  of  silver  tea-spoons 
were  missing.  The  next  day,  on  examining  the  prisoner's 
clothes,  the  witness  found  a  blood  spot  on  a  button  of  the 
coat,  and  an  appearance  of  blood  on  the  lining. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Nourse  testified  that  he  went  to  Dr. 
Adams'  house  on  hearing  of  the  murder,  and  found  the 
Doctor  in  great  agitation  and  distress.  Among  other  things, 
Dr.  Adams  said,  "  Only  think — for  the  paltry  sum  of  two 
hundred  dollars  !"  This  the  witness  afterwards  understood 
to  refer  to  the  robbery  said  to  have  been  committed.  The 
prisoner  also  said,  "  This  cannot  have  been  done  more  than 
three  hours  ;  and  is  nothing  to  be  done  to  apprehend  the 
murderer  ?  I  can  do  nothing."  He  likewise  repeated  se- 
veral times,  that  it  was  an  awful  deed  to  have  been  done  in 
a  Christian  land.  He  told  Mr.  Noyes  at  first,  that  he  had 
lost  sixty  or  seventy  dollars,  which  had  been  wrapped  up 
in  a  newspaper,  but  found,  upon  calculation,  that  he  had 
expended  ail  but  fifteen.  The  witness  afterwards  found 
the  paper,  as  before  stated  by  Mrs.  Rice,  and  showed  it  to 
the  prisoner,  who  said  he  had  no  doubt  it  was  the  same 
that  had  contained  his  money.  When  Mr.  Nourse  found 
it,  there  was  on  it  the  impression  of  a  dollar  that  had  appa- 
rently been  wrapped  in  it. 

On  this  occasion  Mr.  Nourse  did  not  see  Dr.  Adams  shed 
tears.  He  heard  him  say  to  his  daughter,  that  she  never 
saw  him  shed  tears  before.  On  another  occasion,  after  Dr. 
Adams  was  suspected,  but  before  he  was  examined  by  a 
magistrate,  the  witness  saw  him  weep. 

Sewell  Tattle  did  see  the  prisoner  weep,  and  also  stated 
that  he  usually  perspired  very  freely. 

It  was  likewise  proved,  that  a  little  before  the  murder  of 
his  wife,  Dr.  Adams  had  practised  phlebotomy  onPelatiah 
Jourdan.  On  this  occasion  he  wore  his  sheriff's  coat,  and 
turned  up  the  sleeves. 

No  evidence  was  adduced  to  show  whether  the  prisoner 
had  lived  on  good  terms  with  his  wife  or  not. 

The  amount  of  fact  proved,  seems  to  be  as  follows.  Be- 
tween one  and  two  o'clock,  Dr.  Adams  sent  his  hired  man, 
Sewell  Tuttle,  to  the  mill  for  meal.  When  Tuttle  departed, 
Mrs.  Adams  was  alive  and  well.  At  two  o'clock  she  was 


THE    MUSEUM.  201 

alive.  Between  two  and  three  o'clock,  Dr.  Adams  was 
seen  walking  from  his  own  house  towards  Mr.  Langdon's 
very  fast,  and  occasionally  looking  behind  him.  At  this  time 
the  prisoner's  daughter,  and  a  girl  who  lived  in  his  house, 
were  both  in  school.  These  two  girls  went  home  after  the 
school  was  dismissed,  and  found  Mrs.  Adams  dead.  On 
his  way  from  his  house  to  Mr.  Langdon's,  Dr.  Adams 
passed  several  persons,  to  some  of  whom  he  stopped  and 
spoke,  to  others  not.  At  half  past  two,  Adams  passed  Mr. 
Langdon's  house,  to  which  he  returned  and  entered  ten 
minutes  after. 

He  was  much  heated,  and  remarked  that  it  was  three 
o'clock,  though  it  wanted  ten  minutes  of  that  hour.  After 
he  was  informed  of  the  murder,  he  stated  that  a  sum  in 
specie,  wrapped  in  an  old  newspaper,  had  been  taken  from 
his  house.  On  his  way  from  his  own  house  to  Mr.  Lang- 
don's, he  passed  through  a  certain  field.  In  this  field  was 
found  the  next  day,  a  newspaper,  having  the  impression  of 
a  coin  on  it.  On  seeing  it,  he  was  confident  it  was  the 
same  that  had  contained  the  missing  money.  Stains  of 
blood  were  found  on  the  coat  he  that  day  wore,  which 
might,  however,  have  been  occasioned  by  his  coming  in 
contact  with  the  body  of  his  wife,  or  by  his  professional 
practice.  All  the  evidence  respecting  time  was  founded 
merely  on  the  opinions  of  the  witnesses,  who  differed  in 
their  estimates.  Mr.  Langdon's  alone  was  founded  on  the 
regularity  of  a  clock,  which  might  have  been  wrong.  Ail 
the  circumstances  together  did  not  amount  to  indubitable 
proof  of  guilt,  and  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  NOT 
guilty. 


DREADFUL  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  PYRAMIDS  OF  EGYPT. 

SOME  French  travellers,  attempting  to  explore  the  vaults 
of  the  Egyptian  pyramids,  had  already  traversed  an  exten- 
sive labyrinth  of  chambers  and  passages ;  they  were  on 
their  return,  and  had  arrived  at  the  most  difficult  part  of 
it — a  very  long  and  winding  passage,  forming  a  communi- 
cation between  two  chambers — its  opening  narrow  and 


202  THE    MUSEUM. 

low.  The  ruggedness  of  the  floor,  sides,  and  roof,  render- 
ed their  progress  slow  and  laborious,  and  these  difficulties 
increased  rapidly  as  they  advanced.  The  torch  with 
which  they  had  entered  became  useless,  from  the  impos- 
sibility of  holding  it  upright,  as  the  passage  diminished  its 
height.  Both  its  height  and  width,  at  length,  however,  be- 
came so  much  contracted,  that  the  parties  were  compelled 
to  crawl  on  their  bellies.  Their  wanderings  in  these  in- 
terminable passages  (for  such  in  their  fatigue  of  body  and 
mind  they  deemed  them)  seemed  to  be  endless.  Their 
alarm  was  very  great,  and  their  patience  already  exhausted, 
when  the  headmost  of  the  party  cried  out,  that  he  could 
discern  the  light  at  the  exit  of  the  passage,  at  a  considera- 
ble distance  ahead ;  but  that  he  could  not  advance  any 
further,  and  that  in  his  efforts  to  press  on,  in  hopes  to  sur- 
mount the  obstacle  without  complaining,  he  had  squeezed 
himself  so  far  into  the  reduced  opening,  that  he  had  now 
no  longer  strength  even  to  recede  !  The  situation  of  the 
whole  party  may  be  imagined ;  their  tenror  was  beyond 
the  power  of  direction  or  advice ;  while  the  wretched 
leader,  whether  from  terror  or  the  natural  effect  of  his 
situation,  swelled  so,  that,  if  it  was  before  difficult,  it  was 
now  impossible  for  him  to  stir  from  the  spot  he  thus  mi- 
serably occupied.  One  of  the  party,  at  this  dreadful  and 
critical  moment,  proposed,  in  the  intense  selfishness  to 
which  the  feeling  of  vital  danger  reduces  all,  as  the  only 
means  of  escape  from  this  horrid  confinement — this  living 
grave — to  cut  in  pieces  the  wretched  being  who  formed 
the  obstruction,  and  clear  it  by  dragging  the  dismembered 
carcass  piecemeal  past  them  !  He  heard  this  dreadful 
proposal,  and,  contracting  himself  in  the  agony  at  the  idea 
of  this  death,  was  reduced,  by  a  strong  muscular  spasm, 
to  his  usual  dimensions,  and  was  dragged  out,  affording 
room  for  the  party  to  squeeze  themselves  past  over  his 
prostrate  body.  This  unhappy  creature  was  suffocated  in 
the  effort,  and  was  left  behind,  a  corpse. 


THE    MUSEUM.  203 


FIRST   PAINTING    OF    THE    CRUCIFIXION. 

GIOTTO,  an  Italian  painter,  designing  to  draw  a  crucifix 
to  the  life,  wheedled  a  poor  man  to  suffer  himself  to  be 
bound  to  the  cross  for  an  hour ;  at  the  end  of  which  time 
he  should  be  released,  and  receive  a  considerable  gratuity 
for  his  pains.  But  instead  of  this,  as  soon  as  he  had  him  fast 
on  the  cross,  he  stabbed  him  in  the  side  and  then  fell  to 
drawing.  He  was  esteemed  the  greatest  master  in  all  Italy 
at  that  time  ;  and,  having  this  advantage  of  a  dead  man 
hanging  on  a  cross  before  him,  there  is  no  question  but  he 
made  a  matchless  piece  of  work  of  it. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  his  picture,  he  carried  it  to  the 
pope,  who  was  astonished  at  this  prodigy  of  art ;  highly  ex- 
tolling the  exquisiteness  of  the  features  and  limbs,  the 
languishing  pale  deadness  of  the  face,  the  unaffected  sink- 
ing of  the  head  :  in  a  word,  he  had  represented,  not  only 
that  privation  of  sense  and  motion  which  we  call  death, 
but  also  the  want  of  the  least  vital  symptom.  This  is  bet- 
ter understood  than  expressed  ;  every  body  knows  that  it 
is  a  master-piece  to  represent  a  passion  or  a  thought  well 
and  natural.  Much  greater  is  it  to  describe  the  total  ab- 
sence of  these  inferior  faculties,  so  as  to  distinguish  the 
figure  of  a  dead  man  from  one  that  is  only  asleep.  Yet 
all  this,  and  much  more,  could  the  pope  discern  in  the  ad- 
mirable draft  with  which  Giotto  presented  him.  And  he 
liked  it  so  well,  that  he  resolved  to  place  it  over  the  altar 
of  his  own  chapel.  Giotto  told  him,  since  he  liked  the 
copy  so  well,  he  would  show  him  the  original  if  he  pleased. 
"  What  dost  thou  mean  by  the  original  ?  Wilt  thou  show 
me  Jesus  Christ  on  the  cross,  in  his  own  person  ?"  "  No," 
replied  Giotto,  "but  I'll  show  your  holiness  the  original 
from  whence  I  drew  this,  if  you  will  absolve  me  from  all 
punishment." 

The  good  old  father  suspecting  something  extraordinary 
from  the  painter  thus  capitulating  with  him,  promised,  on 
his  word,  to  pardon  him ;  which  Giotto  believing,  immedi- 
ately told  him  where  it  was :  and  attending  him  to  the 
place,  as  soon  as  they  had  entered,  he  drew  back  a  curtain 
which  hung  before  the  dead  man  on  the  cross,  and  told  tlie 


204  THE    MUSEUM. 

pope  what  he  had  done.  The  holy  father,  extremely 
troubled  at  so  inhuman  and  barbarous  an  action,  repealed 
his  promise,  and  told  the  painter  he  should  surely  be  put 
to  an  exemplary  death.  Giotto  seemed  resigned  to  the 
sentence  pronounced  upon  him,  and  only  begged  leave  to 
finish  the  picture  before  he  died,  which  was  granted  him. 
In  the  mean  while  a  guard  was  set  upon  him  to  prevent 
his  escape. 

The  pope  having  caused  the  picture  to  be  delivered  into 
his  hands,  Giotto  took  a  brush,  and  dipping  it  into  a  sort  of 
stuff  he  had  ready  for  that  purpose,  daubed  the  picture  all 
over  with  it,  so  that  nothing  could  now  be  seen  of  the  cru- 
cifixion ;  for  it  was  quite  effaced  in  all  outward  appear- 
ance. This  greatly  enraged  the  pope :  he  stamped,  foam- 
ed, and  raved  like  one  in  a  frenzy.  He  swore  that  the 
painter  should  suffer  the  most  cruel  death  that  could  be 
invented,  unless  he  drew  another  fully  as  good  as  the  for- 
mer ;  for,  if  but  the  least  grace  was  missing,  he  would  not 
pardon  him  :  but,  if  he  would  produce  an  exact  parallel, 
he  should  not  only  give  him  his  life,  but  an  ample  reward 
in  money.  The  painter,  as  he  had  reason,  desired  this 
under  the  pope's  signet,  that  he  might  not  be  in  danger  oi 
a  second  repeal,  which  was  granted  him.  Giotto  now  took 
a  wet  sponge  and  wiped  off  all  the  varnish  that  he  had 
daubed  on  the  picture,  and  the  crucifix  appeared  the  same, 
in  all  respects,  as  before.  The  pope,  who  looked  upon  this 
as  a  great  secret,  being  ignorant  of  the  arts  which  the 
painter  used,  was  ravished  at  the  strange  metamorphosis  ; 
and  to  reward  Giotto's  great  ingenuity,  he  absolved  him 
from  all  his  sins,  and  the  punishment  due  to  them ;  more- 
over, ordering  his  steward  to  cover  the  picture  with  gold, 
as  a  farther  gratuity  for  the  painter.  This  crucifix  is  the 
original  from  which  the  most  famous  crucifixions  were 
drawn. — Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painters. 


THE    SAMPHIRE    GATHERER. 


THERE   are   few   avocations  attended  with   so  much 
danger,  as  that  of  gathering  rock  samphire,  which  grows 


THE    MUSEUM.  205 

in  great  plenty  along  the  edges  and  down  the  perpendicu- 
lar sides  of  the  cliffs  near  Rennel's  cave,  in  Glamorgan- 
shire, Wales. 

The  method  employed  by  these  fearless  adventurers  in 
their  dreadful  occupations,  is  simply  this : — The  samphire 
gatherer  takes  with  him  a  stout  rope  and  iron  crow-bar, 
and  proceeds  to  the  cliff,  fixing  the  latter  firmly  into  the 
earth,  at  the  brow  of  the  rock,  and  fastening  the  former 
with  equal  security  to  the  bar,  he  takes  the  rope  in  his 
hand,  and  boldly  drops  over  the  head  of  the  rock,  lowering 
himself  gradually  until  he  reaches  the  crevices  where  the 
samphire  is  found.  Here  he  loads  his  basket  or  bag  with 
the  vegetable,  and  then  ascends  the  rock  by  means  of  the 
rope.  Carelessness  or  casualty  in  a  calling  so  perilous  as 
this,  will  sometimes  produce  terrible  accidents. 

There  is  a  story  related  of  a  poor  cottager,  named 
Evans,  which  is  so  full  of  horrors,  though  not  terminating 
fatally,  that  the  bare  idea  of  it  makes  the  blood  run  cold 
from  the  heart. 

It  appears  that  this  courageous  fellow  had  been  in  good 
circumstances,  but  misfortunes  had  reduced  him  to  the 
lowest  ebb  of  wretchedness  and  want.  His  wife  and  large 
family  of  eight  children  were  crying  around  him  for  bread  : 
unable  to  endure  the  thought  of  his  dear  little  ones  suffer- 
ing, without  making  an  effort  to  save  them,  in  a  moment 
of  desperation,  he  borrowed  the  crow-bar  and  rope  of  a 
neighboring  cottager,  and  proceeded  to  the  extremity  of 
the  rock,  without  one  thought  of  the  danger  of  his  under- 
taking ;  (never  having  ventured  before ;)  he  fixed  the 
crowbar,  attached  the  rope  to  it,  and  boldly  descended 
the  cliff.  In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  he  reached  a 
ledge,  which,  gradually  retiring  inwards,  stood  some  feet 
within  the  perpendicular,  and  over  which  the  brow  of  the 
cliff  beetled,  consequently,  in  the  same  proportion.  Busily 
employed  in  gathering  the  samphire,  and  attentive  only  to 
the  object  of  profit,  the  rope  suddenly  dropped  from  his 
hand,  and  after  a  few  oscillations  became  stationary,  at 
the  distance  of  four  or  five  feet  from  him.  Nothing  could 
exceed  the  horror  of  his  situation  ;  above  was  a  rock  of 
sixty  or  seventy  feet  in  height,  whose  projecting  brow 
could  defy  every  attempt  of  his  to  ascend  it,  and  prevent 

40 


206  THE    MU5ETTM. 

every  effort  of  others  to  assist  him.  Below  was  a  perpen 
dicular  descent  of  one  hundred  feet,  terminated  by  rugged 
rocks,  over  which  the  surge  was  breaking  with  dreadful 
violence.  Before  was  the  rope,  his  only  hope  of  safety, 
his  only  means  of  return  ;  but  hanging  at  such  a  tantalizing 
distance,  as  baffled  all  expectation  of  his  reaching  it.  Here, 
therefore,  he  remained,  until  the  piercing  cries  of  his  wife 
and  children,  who,  alarmed  at  his  long  absence,  had  ap- 
proached the  very  edge  of  the  cliff,  roused  him  to  action. 
He  was  young,  active,  and  resolute :  with  a  desperate 
effort,  therefore,  he  collected  all  his  powers,  and,  springing 
boldly  from  the  ledge,  he  threw  himself  into  the  dreadful 
vacuum,  and  dashed  at  the  suspended  rope  !  The  desperate 
exertion  was  successful :  he  caught  the  cord,  and  in  a  short 
time  was  once  more  at  the  top  of  the  rock.  No  language 
can  describe  the  scene  which  followed  :  himself,  the  dear 
partner  of  his  heart,  and  his  little  offspring,  were  in  one 
moment  raised  from  the  lowest  depth  of  misery,  to  comfort, 
joy  and  happiness. 


JUDICIAL    CASE    OP    JOHN    ORME. 

JOHN  ORME  resided  at  Macclesfield,  in  Cheshire,  where 
he  followed  the  humble  occupation  of  a  collier,  and  by  his 
industry  supported  a  large  family.  About  the  year  1785, 
two  persons,  named  Lowe  and  Oakes,  charged  with  coin- 
ing, were  apprehended  at  Macclesfield.  Oakes  was  mere- 
ly a  carrier,  and  Lowe  the  actual  maker  of  the  base  coin : 
but,  as  the  law  admits  of  no  accessory,  every  person  assist- 
ing being  a  principal,  Oakes  was  convicted  and  executed. 
Lowe  was  more  fortunate  ;  though  found  guilty,  and  sen- 
tence passed,  in  consequence  of  a  flaw  in  the  indictment, 
(the  omission  simply  of  the  particle  or,)  his  case  was  re- 
ferred to  the  opinion  of  the  twelve  judges,  and  his  life 
saved. 

About  this  period,  a  man,  a  stranger,  from  Birmingham, 
arrived  at  Macclesfield,  and  took  a  room  in  the  house  of 
Orme,  under  the  pretext  of  keeping  a  school.  Here  he 
remained  a  few  weeks,  till  a  vacation  time  came  on,  when 


THE     MTTSEUM.  207 

he  told  hi',  landlord,  Orme,  he  should  go  and  see  his  friends 
at  Birmingham,  and  on  his  return  would  pay  his  rent. 
Stopping,  however,  longer  than  he  promised,  Orrne,  from 
necessity,  broke  open  his  lodger's  door  ;  when,  on  entering 
the  room,  he  found  a  crucible  for  coining,  with  a  few  base 
shillings,  the  latter  of  which  he  put  carelessly  into  his 
pocket,  but,  as  he  solemnly  protested,  did  not  attempt  to 
utter  them. 

A  few  days  after  this  circumstance,  some  cotton  having 
been  stolen  from  a  mill  in  the  neighborhood,  a  search-war- 
rant was  granted,  when,  among  others,  the  constables  en- 
tered Orme's  house,  where  they  found  the  above  article  for 
coining.  As  might  naturally  be  supposed,  they  concluded 
that  Orme  was  a  party  with  Lowe  and  Oakes,  and  seized 
the  instrument,  eagerly  carrying  it  before  a  magistrate. 
A  warrant  was  immediately  granted  to  apprehend  Orme 
on  a  charge  of  coining,  and  he  was  taken  from  his  employ- 
ment at  the  bottom  of  a  coal-pit.  On  their  way  to  the 
magistrate's  office,  he  was  informed  by  the  constables  of 
the  nature  of  the  charge  against  him ;  when,  recollecting 
the  base  money  he  had  in  his  pocket,  just  as  he  was  enter- 
ing the  office,  his  fears  got  so  much  the  ascendency  over 
his  prudence,  that  he  hastily  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 
and,  taking  out  the  shillings,  crammed  them  into  his  mouth, 
from  which  they  were  taken  by  a  constable.  A  circum- 
tance  apparently  so  conclusive  against  the  prisoner  could  not 
fail  to  have  its  weight  with  the  jury  at  his  trial,  and  the  poor 
fellow  was  convicted.  Judgment  of  death  was  according- 
ly passed  by  the  late  Lord  Alvanly,  then  the  Hon.  Pepper 
Arden. 

Orme  was  sentenced  to  die  with  Oakes  ;  but  a  few  days 
before  that  which  was  appointed  to  be  his  last,  a  brother  of 
Orme,  resident  in  London,  a  cheese-factor  and  hop-mer- 
chant in  the  borough,  arrived  at  Chester  with  a  respite  for 
a  fortnight.  In  this  interval,  a  gentleman  acquainted  with 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  drew  up  a  petition  to  the 
king,  and  principally  assisted  by  the  late  Rolls  Legh,  Esq., 
procured  the  signatures  of  a  considerable  part  of  the  grand 
jury  to  the  same.  Orme's  respite  expired  at  one  o'clock 
On  Monday,  the  hour  that  was  to  terminate  his  earthly 
existence.  OP  the  Saturday  night  preceding,  his  friends 


208  THE    MUSEUM. 

waited  at  the  post  office  with  an  anxiety  and  solicitude  that 
words  can  but  faintly  describe:  at  the  hour  of  eleven,  the 
unpropitious  and  unwelcome  information  arrived  that  all 
had  failed 

This  failure  had  arisen  in  consequence  of  the  prisoner 
attempting  to  break  out  of  jail  after  sentence  had  been 
passed:  and  here  the  rough  but  honest  blunlness  of  Mr. 
Roils  Legh  ought  not  to  be  forgotten.  On  applying  to  the 
foreman  of  the  jury  to  sign  the  petition  the  latter  objected, 
saying,  "he  could  not, as  Orme  had  attempted  to  breakout 
of  the  castle."  Mr.  Legh  exclaimed,  "  by  G — d,  and  so 
would  you,  if  you  were  under  sentence  of  death." 

Not  a  ray  of  hope  was  now  left,  and  the  unfortunate 
prisoner  had  no  expectation  of  living  beyond  the  appointed 
moment.  Accordingly  the  dreadful  accompaniments  of  a 
public  and  ignominious  death  were  prepared — a  hurdle  to 
take  his  body  to  the  fatal  tree,  (as  in  cases  of  petty  trea- 
son,) the  sheriff's  officers  were  ail  summoned,  and  a  coffin 
was  made  to  receive  his  remains.  Supported  by  con- 
scious innocence,  never  was  a  man  better  prepared  to  meet 
so  awful  an  end  than  Orme;  all  the  Sunday  his  mind  was 
serene,  placid,  and  comfortable  ;  not  the  least  emotion,  not 
even  a  sigh  escaped  him  ;  and  when  the  news  arrived  of 
his  deliverance  from  death,  he  silently  received  it  with  ap- 
parent disappointment.  About  ten  o'clock  on  that  night, 
the  king's  special  messenger  arrived  with  a  reprieve  :  the 
persevering  and  fraternal  affection  of  his  brother  having 
ultimately  succeeded.  He  suffered,  however,  five  years 
incarceration  in  the  castle  from  the  time  of  his  reprieve. 
He  survived  his  liberation  (procured  by  the  late  judge 
Bearcroft,)  nearly  sixteen  years ;  brought  up  a  large  fami- 
ly by  honest  industry,  and  died  at  Macclesfield  in  1806. 


MURDER  OF  ARCHBISHOP  SHARP,  ON  THE  So  OF  MAY,   1679. 

JAMES  SHARP  was  born  in  the  castle  of  Bauff,  13th  of 
May,  1613.  He  was  educated  in  Aberdeen,  and  became 
professor  of  philosophy  and  divinity,  successively  in  the 
college  of  that  place.  He  was  afterwards  appointed  min- 


THE    MUSEUM.  209 

ister  of  the  town  of  Crail.  During  the  troubles  in  his 
native  country,  he  visited  England,  and  passed  much  of 
his  time  at  Oxford,  in  conversation  with  the  learned  in  that 
university.  On  the  restoration  of  the  royal  family  and 
episcopacy,  he  was  promoted  to  the  archbishopric  of  St. 
Andrew,  and  was  consecrated  in  Westminster  Abbey,  on 
the  15th  of  December,  1661,  which  see  he  possessed  until 
the  day  of  his  murder.  The  following  narrative  was 
drawn  up  a  few  weeks  after  the  perpetration  of  that  hor- 
rid deed. 

"  Alter  that  God  had  restored  to  these  kingdoms  their 
king  and  liberty,  reasonable  men  might  have  concluded, 
that  we  would  have  rested  with  much  satisfaction  under 
those  great  blessings,  for  which  we  had  so  much  longed. 
But  that  restless  bigotry,  which  had  in  the  late  rebellion 
distracted  our  religion,  dissolved  monarchy,  unhinged  our 
property,  and  enslaved  our  liberties,  did  soon  prompt  the 
execrable  authors  of  Napthali  and  Jus  Pojjuli,  who,  in 
those  books,  endeavored  to  persuade  all  men  to  massacre 
their  governors  and  judges  by  the  misapplied  example  of 
holy  Phineas,  and  did  in  specific  terms  assert,  that  there 
could  be  no  greater  gift  made  to  Jesus  Christ,  than  the 
sending  the  archbishop  of  St.  Andrews'  head  in  a  silver 
box  to  the  king  ;  which  doctrine  prevailed  with  Mr.  James 
Mitchell,  a  zealous  Napthalite,  to  attempt  the  killing  of  the 
said  Lord  Archbishop,  upon  the  chief  street  of  Edinburgh, 
in  face  of  the  sun,  and  of  the  multitude ;  and  he  having 
died,  owning  his  crime  as  a  duty,  and  others  having  written 
books,  comparing  him  in  his  crime  to  Sampson,  twelve  or 
more,  of  the  same  set  did,  upon  the  third  of  May  last, 
murder  the  said  archbishop,  in  this  ensuing  manner. 

•'After  his  grace  had  gone  from  the  secret  council, 
where,  to  aggravate  their  crime,  he  had  been  pleading 
most  fervently  for  favors  to  them,  having  lodged  at  a  vil- 
lage called  Kennoway,  in  Fiffe,  upon  Friday  night,  the  2d 
of  May,  he  took  his  journey  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock, 
towards  St.  Andrews ;  and  his  coachman  having  dis- 
covered some  horsemen  near  to  Magus,  (a  place  about 
two  miles  distance  from  St.  Andrews',)  advertised  the 
archbishop  thereof,  asking  if  he  should  drive  faster ;  which 
his  grace  discouraged,  because  he  said  he  feared  no  harm : 

40* 


210  THE    MUSEUM. 

they  drawing  nearer,  his  daughter  seeing  pistols  in  their 
hands,  and  them  riding  at  a  great  rate,  she  persuaded  her 
father  to  look  out,  and  he  thereupon  desired  his  coachman 
to  drive  on  ;  who  had  certainly  outdriven  them,  if  one  Bal- 
four  of  Kinlock,  being  mounted  on  a  very  fleet  horse,  had 
not  cunningly  passed  the  coach,  (into  which  they  had  in 
vain  discharged  very  many  shot.)  and  after  he  found  that 
he  could  not  wound  the  coachman,  because  his  coach- 
whip  frightened  the  sprightly  horse,  wounded  the  postil- 
lion, and  disabled  the  foremost  coach-horses ;  whereupon 
the  rest  coming  up,  one  of  them,  with  a  blunderbuss, 
wounded  the  Lord  Primate  in  the  coach,  and  others  called 
to  him  to  "  Come  forth,  vile  dog,  who  had  betrayed  Christ 
and  his  church,  and  to  receive  what  he  deserved  for  his 
wickedness  against  the  kirk  of  Scotland  ;"  and  reproached 
him  with  Mr.  James  Mitchell's  death.  While  he  was  in 
the  coach,  one  run  him  through  with  a  sword  under  his 
shoulder,  the  rest  pulled  him  violently  out  of  the  coach. 
His  daughter  came  out,  and  upon  her  knees  began  to  beg 
mercy  to  her  father ;  but  they  beat  her  and  trampled  her 
down.  The  Lord  Primate,  with  very  great  calmness,  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  I  know  not  that  ever  I  injured  any  of  you ; 
and,  if  I  did,  I  promise  I  will  make  what  reparation  you 
can  propose." — "  Villain  and  Judas,"  said  they,  "  an  enemy 
to  God  and  his  people,  you  shall  now  have  the  reward  of 
your  enmity  to  God's  people  :"  which  words  were  follow- 
ed with  many  mortal  wounds,  the  first  being  a  deep  one 
above  his  eye  ;  and  though  he  put  them  in  mind  that  he 
was  a  minister,  and,  pulling  off  his  cap  showed  them  his 
grey  hairs,  entreating,  that,  if  they  would  not  spare  his  life, 
they  would  at  least  allow  him  some  little  time  for  prayer. 
They  returned  him  no  other  answer,  but  that  God  would 
not  hear  so  base  a  dog  as  he  was  ;  and  for  quarter  they 
told  him,  that  the  strokes  which  they  were  then  giving, 
were  those  which  he  was  to  expect.  Notwithstanding  all 
of  which,  and  of  a  shot  that  pierced  his  body  above  his 
right  pap,  and  of  other  strokes  which  cut  his  hands,  whilst 
he  was  holding  them  up  to  heaven  in  prayer,  he  raised 
himself  upon  his  knees,  and  uttered  only  these  words, 
"  God  forgive  you  all ;"  after  which,  by  many  strokes  that 
cut  his  skull  to  pieces,  he  fell  down  dead.  But  some  of 


THE    MUSEUM.  211 

them,  imagining  they  had  heard  him  groan,  returned,  say- 
ing, that  he  was  of  the  nature  of  a  cat,  and  so  they  would 
go  back  and  give  one  stroke  more  for  the  glory  of  God  ; 
and  having  stirred  about  his  brains  in  the  skull  with  the 
points  of  their  swords,  they  took  an  oath  of  his  servants 
not  to  reveal  their  names  ;  and  so  desiring  them  to  take  up 
their  priest,  they  rode  bake  to  Magus,  crying  aloud  that 
Judas  was  killed,  and  from  thence  made  their  escape." 


ARABIAN   GENEROSITY   AND   FIDELITY. 

A  CUSTOM  equally  barbarous  and  superstitious,  had  been 
introduced  among  the  Arabs  before  Mahommedanism  • 
they  had  consecrated  two  days  of  the  week  to  two  of  their 
divinities.  The  first  of  these  days  was  considered  as  a  day 
of  happiness,  and  the  prince  in  order  that  it  might  be  cele- 
brated with  joy,  and  festivity,  usually  granted  to  all  that 
came  into  his  presence  the  favor  they  were  pleased  to  re- 
quest :  the  second,  on  the  contrary,  was  reputed  ominous. 
All  those  were  immolated,  who,  on  that  day,  were  so  im- 
prudent as  to  appear  before  the  king  to  solicit  any  favor  ; 
undoubtedly,  because  the  idol  to  whom  that  day  was  con- 
secrated in  a  very  particular  manner,  passed  in  the  minds 
of  the  people  for  a  terrible  deity,  whose  anger  they  pre- 
tended to  appease  by  these  victims. 

In  the  reign  of  Naam-ibn  Munzir,  an  Arab  of  the  desert, 
by  name  Tai,  had  fallen  from  great  opulence  into  extreme 
ndigence.  Hearing  the  Naam's  liberality  much  extolled, 
he  resolved  to  have  recourse  to  it.  He  set  out  on  his  jour- 
ney, after  having  embraced  his  wife  and  children,  and  as- 
sured them  he  was  going  to  seek  a  remedy  for  their  mis- 
fortunes. The  poor  man,  too  much  taken  up  with  the 
thoughts  of  helping  his  family,  did  not  reflect  on  the  fatal 
day  he  had  chosen  to  appear  as  a  suppliant  before  the  king. 
Naam  had  no  sooner  seen  him,  than,  turning  from  him,  he 
said,  "  Wretch,  what  hast  thou  done  ?  And  why  present 
thyself  before  me  on  so  fatal  a  day  as  this?  Thy  life  is 
forfeited,  and  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  save  thee." 

Tai,  seeing  his  death  certain,  threw  himself  at  the  prince's 


212  THE    MUSE  UM  . 

feet,  and  conjured  him  10  delay,  at  least,  his  punishment 
for  a  few  hours :  "  May  I  be  permitted,"  said  he,  "  to  em- 
brace, for  the  last  time,  my  wife  and  children,  and  to  carry 
them  some  provisions,  for  the  want  of  which  they  are  likely 
to  perish.  Thou  art  too  equitable  to  involve  the  innocent 
in  the  fate  of  the  guilty.  1  swear  by  all  that  is  sacred, 
that  I  shall  return  before  sunset,  and  thou  mayest  then 
put  me  to  death  :  and  I  shall  die  without  murmuring.'* 

The  prince,  much  affected  with  Tai's  speech,  was 
pleased  to  grant  him  the  requested  delay,  but  it  was  upon 
a  condition  that  almost  made  void  the  favor.  He  required 
the  security  of  a  sufficient  person  whom  he  might  put  to 
death  in  his  room,  if  he  should  fail  in  his  word. 

Tai,  in  vain,  earnestly  entreated  all  those  that  surround- 
ed the  prince.  Not  one  would  dare  to  expose  himself  to 
so  evident  a  danger.  Then  addressing  himself  to  Clrerik 
Benadi,  the  monarch's  favorite,  he  spoke  to  him,  his  eyes 
bathed  in  tears  :  "  And  thou,  Cherik,  whose  soul  is  so  no- 
ble and  great,  wilt  thou  be  insensible  of  my  piteous  state  ? 
Canst  thou  refuse  to  be  security  for  me  1  I  call  to  witness 
the  gods  and  men,  that  I  shall  return  before  the  setting  of 
the  sun." 

Cherik,  naturaJly  compassionate,  was  greatly  moved  by 
Tai's  words  and  misfortunes.  Turning  to  the  prince,  he 
said,  he  did  not  scruple  to  be  bound  for  Tai,  who,  before 
he  had  leave  to  depart,  disappeared  in  an  instant,  and  re- 
paired to  hi.s  wife  and  children. 

Meanwhile  the  time  limited  for  his  return  was  elapsing 
insensibly,  and  the  sun  was  ready  to  terminate  his  course, 
but  there  was  no  appearance  of  him.  Cherik  was  led  in 
chains  to  the  place  of  punishment,  and  the  executioner  had 
the  axe  uplifted  to  give  the  blow,  when  a  man  was  per- 
ceived at  a  distance  running  along  the  plain.  'Twas  Tai 
himself,  who  was  out  of  breath,  and  covered  all  over  with 
sweat  and  dust.  Horror  seized  him  on  seeing  Cherik  on 
the  scaffold,  ready  to  receive  the  blow  of  death.  He  flew 
to  him,  broke  his  chains,  and  putting  himself  in  his  place — 
"  I  die  well  satisfied,"  said  he,  "having  been  so  happy  as  to 
come  in  time  to  deliver  thee." 

This  moving  spectacle  drew  tears  from  all  present ;  tha 
king  himself  could  not  check  his  own.  "  I  never  saw  any 


THE    MUSEUM.  213 

thing  so  extraordinary,"  cried  he,  transported  with  admi- 
ration. "  Thou  Tai,  thou  art  the  model  of  that  fidelity  with 
which  one  ought  to  keep  his  word  ;  and  thou,  Cherik,  none 
can  equal  thy  great  soul  in  generosity.  I  abolish,  in  favor 
of  both  of  you,  an  odious  custom,  which  barbarity  had  in- 
troduced among  us :  my  subjects  may  for  the  future  ap- 
proach me  at  all  times  without  fear."  The  monarch  heap- 
ed benefactions  upon  Tai,  and  Cherik  became  dearer  to 
him  than  ever. 

The  circumstances  of  this  narrative  are  of  a  similar  na- 
ture to  that  of  Damon  and  Pythias,  so  famous  in  antiquity ; 
but  it  seems  that  the  action  of  Cherik  is  superior  to  that 
of  Pythias  ;  generosity  having  induced  him  to  do  for  an 
unknown  person,  what  friendship  influenced  Pythias  to  do 
in  favor  of  Damon. 


MIRACULOUS    FLIGHT    OP  A    CRIMINAL. 

IN  the  country,  last  year,  (1796,)  says  Madame  du  Mon- 
tier,  I  was  in  company  with  a  good  friar,  eighty  years  of 
age,  from  whom  I  had  the  following  story : 

About  forty  years  ago  he  was  sent  for  to  a  highwayman 
to  prepare  him  for  death.  The  magistrates  shut  him  up  in 
a  small  chapel  with  the  malefactor,  and  while  he  was  mak- 
ing every  effort  to  excite  him  to  repentance,  he  perceived 
the  man  was  absorbed  in  thought,  and  hardly  attended 
to  his  discourse.  My  dear  friend,  said  he,  do  you  reflect 
that  in  a  few  hours  you  must  appear  before  your  Almighty 
Judge ;  what  can  divert  your  attention  from  an  affair  of 
such  importance  ?  True,  father,  returned  the  malefactor, 
but  I  cannot  divest  myself  of  an  idea,  that  you  have  it  in 
your  power  to  save  my  life.  How  can  I  possibly  effect 
that,  rejoined  the  friar;  and  even  supposing  I  could,  should 
I  venture  to  do  it,  and  thereby  give  you  an  opportunity  of 
accumulating  your  crimes  ?  If  that  be  all  that  prevents 
you,  replied  the  malefactor,  you  may  rely  on  my  word — I 
have  beheld  the  rack  too  near,  again  to  expose  myself  to 
its  torments.  The  friar  yielded  to  the  impulse  of  compas- 
sion, and  it  only  remained  to  contrive  the  means  of  his  es- 


214  THE    MT7SEUM. 

cape.  The  chapel  where  they  were,  was  lighted  by  one 
small  window  near  the  top,  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground. 
You  have  only,  said  the  criminal,  to  set  your  chair  on  the 
altar,  which  we  can  remove  to  the  foot  of  the  wall,  and  if 
you  will  get  upon  it,  I  can  reach  the  top  by  the  help  of 
your  shoulders.  The  friar  consented  to  this  manosuvre, 
and  having  replaced  the  altar,  which  was  portable,  he  seat- 
ed himself  quietly  in  his  chair.  About  three  hours  after, 
the  officer  and  executioner,  who  began  to  grow  impatient, 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  asked  the  friar  what  was  become 
of  the  criminal.  He  must  have  been  an  angel,  replied  he, 
coolly,  for  by  the  faith  of  a  priest,  lie  went  out  through 
that  window.  The  executioner,  who  found  himself  a  loser 
by  this  account,  inquired  if  he  was  laughing  at  him,  and 
ran  to  inform  the  judges.  They  repaired  to  the  chapel 
where  our  good  man  was  sitting,  who,  pointing  to  the  win- 
dow, assured  them,  upon  his  conscience,  that  the  malefac- 
tor flew  out  at  it ;  and  that,  supposing  him  an  angel,  he 
was  going  to  recommend  himself  to  his  protection  ;  that, 
moreover,  if  he  were  a  criminal,  which  he  could  not  sus- 
pect after  what  he  had  seen,  he  was  not  obliged  to  be  his 
guardian.  The  magistrates  could  not  preserve  their  grav- 
ity at  this  good  man's  sang-froid,  and,  after  wishing  a 
pleasant  journey  to  the  culprit,  went  away.  Twenty  years 
after,  this  friar,  travelling  over  the  Ardennes,  lost  his  way, 
just  as  the  day  was  closing :  a  kind  of  peasant  accosted 
him,  and,  after  examining  him  very  attentively,  asked  him 
whither  he  was  going,  and  told  him  the  road  he  was  trav- 
elling was  a  very  dangerous  one  ;  if  you  will  follow  me, 
he  added,  I  will  conduct  you  to  a  farm  at  no  great  distance, 
where  you  may  pass  the  night  in  safety.  The  friar  was 
much  embarrassed  ;  the  curiosity  visible  in  the  man's  coun- 
tenance excited  his  suspicions ;  but,  considering  that  if  he 
nad  a  bad  design  towards  him  it  was  impossible  to  escape, 
he  followed  him  with  trembling  steps.  His  fear  was  not 
of  long  duration — he  perceived  the  farm  which  the  peasant 
had  mentioned  ;  and,  as  they  entered,  the  man,  who  was 
the  proprietor  of  it.  told  his  wife  to  kill  a  capon,  with  some 
of  the  finest  chickens  in  the  poultry  yard,  and  to  welcome 
his  guest  with  the  best  cheer.  While  supper  was  prepa- 
ring, the  countryman  re-entered,  followed  by  eight  children. 


THE    MUSEUM.  215 

whom  lie  thus  addressed :  my  children,  pour  forth  your 
grateful  thanks  to  this  good  friar ;  had  it  not  been  for  him 
you  would  not  have  been  here,  nor  I  either ;  he  saved  my 
life.  The  friar  instantly  recollected  the  features  of  the 
speaker,  and  recognized  the  thief  whose  escape  he  had 
favored.  The  whole  family  loaded  him  with  caresses  and 
kindness ;  and,  when  he  was  alone  with  the  man,  he  in- 
quired how  he  came  to  be  so  well  provided  for.  I  kept 
my  word  with  you,  said  the  thief,  and  resolving  to  lead  a 
good  life  in  future,  I  begged  my  way  hither,  which  is  my 
native  country,  and  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  master 
of  this  farm ;  gaining  his  favor  by  my  fidelity  and  attach- 
ment to  his  interest,  he  gave  me  his  only  daughter  in  mar- 
riage. God  has  blessed  my  endeavors  :  I  have  amassed  a 
little  wealth,  and  I  beg  you  will  dispose  of  me  and  all  that 
belongs  to  rne :  I  shall  now  die  content,  since  I  have  seen 
and  am  able  to  testify  my  gratitude  toward  my  deliverer. 
The  friar  told  him  he  was  well  repaid  for  the  service  he 
had  rendered  him  by  the  use  to  which  he  had  devoted  the 
life  which  he  had  preserved.  He  would  not  accept  of 
any  thing  as  a  recompense,  but  could  not  refuse  to  stay 
some  days  with  the  countryman,  who  treated  him  like  a 
prince.  This  man  then  obliged  him  to  make  use,  at  least, 
of  one  of  his  horses,  to  finish  his  journey,  and  never  quit- 
ted him  till  he  had  traversed  the  dangerous  roads  that 
abound  in  those  mountainous  parts. 

Letters  of  Madame  du  Montier. 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    GAME    OF    CHESS. 

ABOUT  the  commencement  of  the  fifth  century  of  the 
Christian  era,  the  sovereignty  of  a  large  kingdom,  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Ganges,  devolved  to  a  very  young  monarch ; 
experience  had  not  yet  taught  him  that  he  should  consider 
his  subjects  as  his  children,  and  that  their  love  is  the  only 
solid  prop  of  the  state  ;  it  was  in  vain  that  those  important 
truths  were  held  up  to  his  view  by  the  sage  bramins  and 
his  rajahs ;  elated  with  his  power  and  grandeur,  he  swayed 
the  land  with  unnatural  severity. 


210  THK    MUSEUM. 

Sissa,  the  son  of  Dahur,  the  most  venerable  of  the  bra- 
mins,  on  whom  the  splendor  of  philosophy  and  wisdom 
shone  from  his  infancy  to  his  seventieth  year,  saw  that 
there  were  virtues  in  the  monarch  which  required  only  the 
culture  of  reason  to  bring  them  into  life  ;  and,  afflicted  at 
the  miseries  of  his  country,  he  undertook  to  display  to  the 
monarch  the  cause  of  them. 

Sissa,  aware  of  the  disrepute  in  to  which  the  precepts  of 
morality  and  virtue  had  fallen,  from  the  evil  example  held 
up  by  those  who  taught  them,  was  led  to  devise  a  mode  of 
instruction  whereby  his  lessons  should  appear  the  result  of 
the  prince's  own  reasoning,  rather  than  the  instructions  of 
another.  With  this  view,  he  invented  the  game  of  shaik 
or  the  king ;  in  this  game  he  contrived  to  make  the  king 
the  most  important  of  all  the  pieces,  but  yet  the  easiest  to 
attack,  and  the  most  difficult  to  defend  ;  and  only  to  be 
defended  by  the  next  in  rank  or  consequence  in  the  game, 
in  gradation. 

The  game  was  first  spread  abroad  among  some  of  the 
leading  men  ;  and,  from  the  great  fame  of  Sissa,  became 
soon  in  vogue  ;  the  prince  heard  of  it,  and  directed  that  the 
inventor  should  be  his  instructor.  The  sage  bramin  now 
attained  his  desire  ;  and,  in  the  course  of  his  instructions, 
took  seasonable  occasions  to  point  out  the  dependence  of 
the  king  on  the  pawns,  and  other  seasonable  truths ;  the 
prince,  born  with  genius,  and  capable  of  virtuous  senti- 
ments, in  despite  of  the  maxims  of  courtiers,  applied  to  him- 
self the  morality  which  the  game  so  strongly  exhibited,  and, 
reforming  his  conduct,  his  people  soon  became  happy. 

The  prince,  eager  to  recompense  the  bramin  for  the 
great  good  derived  from  his  ingenuity,  required  him  to  de- 
mand what  he  thought  competent.  The  bramin  asked 
only  a  gift  of  corn,  the  amount  of  which  should  be  regu- 
lated by  the  number  of  houses  (or  squares)  on  the  chess- 
board, putting  one  grain  on  the  first  house,  two  on  the 
second,  four  on  the  third,  and  so  on  in  double  permutation 
to  the  sixty-fourth  house.  The  apparent  moderation  of 
the  demand,  astonished  the  king,  and  he  unhesitatingly 
granted  it :  but,  when  his  treasurers  had  calculated  the 
amount  of  the  donation,  they  found  that  the  king's  reve- 
nues were  not  competent  to  discharge  it ;  for  the  corn  of 


THE    MUSEUM.  217 

sixteen  thousand  three  hundred  and  eighty-four  towns, 
each  containing  one  thousand  and  twenty-four  granaries, 
of  one  hundred  and  seventy-three  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  sixty-two  measures  each,  and  each  measure  to  con- 
sist of  thirty-two  thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty-eight 
grains,  could  alone  answer  the  demand. 

The  bramin  then  took  an  opportunity  of  pointing  out  to 
the  monarch  how  necessary  it  was,  especially  for  kings,  to 
be  guarded  against  the  arts  of  those  who  surround  them ; 
how  much  they  owed  to  their  subjects,  and  how  cautious 
they  should  be  of  inconsiderately  bestowing  their  goods 
wastefully. 


RECOVERY  FROM  EXECUTION. 

MANY  who  were  personally  acquainted  with  the  cele- 
brated Professor  Junker,  have  frequently  heard  him  relate 
the  following  circumstances : 

Being  professor  of  anatomy  at  Halle,  he  once  procured 
for  dissection  the  bodies  of  two  criminals  who  had  been 
hanged.  The  key  of  the  dissecting  room  not  being  imme- 
diately at  hand,  when  they  were  brought  to  him,  he  order- 
ed them  to  be  laid  down  in  an  apartment  which  opened 
into  his  bed-chamber.  The  evening  came,  and  Junker, 
according  to  custom,  preceded  to  resume  his  scientific 
labors  before  he  retired  to  rest.  It  was  now  near  mid- 
night, and  aM  his  family  were  fast  asleep,  when  he  heard 
a  rumbling  noise  in  his  closet.  Thinking  that,  by  some 
mistake,  the  cat  had  been  shut  up  with  the  dead  bodies,  he 
rose,  and,  taking  the  candle,  went  to  see  what  had  hap- 
pened. But  what  must  have  been  his  astonishment,  or 
rather  his  panic,  on  perceiving  that  the  sack  which  con- 
tained the  two  bodies  was  rent  through  the  middle.  He 
approached,  and  found  that  one  of  them  was  gone.  The 
doors  and  windows  were  well  secured,  and  that  the  body 
could  have  been  stolen  he  thought  impossible.  He  trem- 
blingly looked  round  the  closet,  and  found  the  corpse  seated 
in  a  corner.  Junker  stood  for  a  moment  motionless ;  the 
dead  man  seemed  to  look  towards  him ;  he  moved  both  to 


218  THE    MUSEUM. 

right  and  left,  but  the  dead  man  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
him.  The  professor  then  retired,  step  by  step,  with  his 
eye  fixed  on  the  object  of  his  alarm,  and  holding  the  can- 
dle in  his  hand  till  he  reached  the  door.  The  corpse  in- 
stantly started  up  and  followed  him.  A  figure  of  so  hideous 
an  appearance,  naked,  and  in  motion  ;  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  the  deep  silence  which  prevailed — every  thing  con- 
curred to  overwhelm  him  with  confusion.  He  let  fall  the 
only  candle  which  was  burning,  and  all  was  darkness.  He 
made  his  escape  to  his  apartment,  and  threw  himself  on 
his  bed  ;  thither,  however,  he  was  followed  ;  and  he  soon 
found  the  dead  man  embracing  his  legs  and  sobbing  loudly. 
Repeated  cries  of  "  leave  me,  leave  me  !"  released  Junker 
from  his  grasp.  The  corpse  now  exclaimed,  "  Ah,  good 
executioner,  good  executioner,  have  mercy  upon  me !" 
Junker  soon  perceived  the  cause  of  what  had  happened, 
and  resumed  his  fortitude.  He  informed  the  re-animated 
sufferer  who  he  really  was,  and  made  an  effort  to  call  up 
some  of  the  family.  "You  then  wish  to  destroy  me  !"  ex- 
claimed the  criminal :  "  if  you  call  up  any  one,  my  ad- 
venture will  become  public,  and  I  shall  be  taken  and  exe- 
cuted a  second  time.  In  the  name  of  humanity,  I  implore 
you  to  save  my  life  !"  The  physician  struck  a  light,  deco- 
rated his  guest  with  an  old  night  gown,  and  having  made 
him  take  a  cordial,  requested  to  know  what  had  brought 
him  to  the  gibbet.  "  It  would  have  been  a  truly  singular 
exhibition,"  observed  Junker,  "  to  have  seen  me,  at  that 
late  hour,  engaged  in  a  tete-a-tete  with  a  dead  man,  dressed 
out  in  an  old  night  gown."  The  poor  wretch  informed 
him,  that  he  had  enlisted  as  a  soldier,  but  that  having  no 
great  attachment  to  the  profession,  he  had  determined  to 
desert ;  that  he  had  entrusted  his  secret  to  a  kind  of  crim — 
a  fellow  of  no  principle,  who  recommended  him  to  a  wo- 
man in  whose  house  he  was  to  remain  concealed  ;  and  that 
she  had  discovered  his  retreat  to  the  officers  of  the  police. 
Junker  was  extremely  perplexed  how  to  save  the  fellow; 
it  was  impossible  to  retain  him  in  his  own  house,  and  keep 
the  affair  secret ;  yet,  to  turn  him  out  of  doors,  was  to  ex- 
pose him  to  certain  destruction.  He  resolved  to  conduct 
him  out  of  the  city,  in  order  that  he  might  get  him  into  a 
foreign  jurisdiction ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  pass  the  gates, 


THE    MITSETTM.  219 

and  they  were  strictly  guarded.  To  accomplish  this  point, 
he  dressed  him  in  some  of  his  own  clothes,  covered  him 
with  a  cloak,  and  at  an  early  hour,  set  out  for  the  country 
with  his  protege  behind  him.  On  arriving  at  the  city  gate, 
where  he  was  well  known,  he  said,  in  a  hurried  voice,  that 
he  had  been  sent  for  to  visit  a  sick  person  in  the  suburbs, 
who  was  dying.  He  was  permitted  to  pass.  Having  both 
got  into  the  fields,  the  deserter  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of 
his  deliverer,  to  whom  he  vowed  eternal  gratitude,  and  after 
receiving  some  pecuniary  assistance,  departed,  offering  up 
prayers  for  his  happiness. 

Twelve  years  after,  Junker,  having  occasion  to  go  to 
Amsterdam,  was  accosted  on  the  Exchange  by  a  man  well 
dressed,  and  of  the  first  appearance,  who  he  had  been  in- 
formed, was  one  of  the  most  respectable  merchants  in  that 
city.  The  merchant,  in  a  polite  tone,  inquired  whether  he 
was  not  Professor  Junker,  of  Halle  ;  and  being  answered 
in  the  affirmative,  he  requested,  in  an  earnest  manner,  his 
company  to  dinner.  The  professor  consented.  Having 
reached  the  merchant's  house,  he  was  shown  into  an  ele- 
gant apartment,  where  he  found  the  merchant,  his  beauti- 
ful wife,  and  two  fine  children :  he  could  but  express  his 
astonishment  at  meeting  with  so  cordial  a  reception  from 
a  family,  with  whom  he  thought  he  was  entirely  unac- 
quainted. After  dinner,  the  merchant  taking  him  into  his 
counting-house,  said,  "  You  do  not  recollect  me."  "  Not 
at  all."  "  But  I  well  recollect  you,  and  never  shall  your 
features  be  effaced  from  my  remembrance.  You  are  my 
benefactor ;  I  am  the  person  who  came  to  life  in  your 
closet,  and  to  whom  you  paid  so  much  attention.  On 
parting  from  you,  I  took  the  road  to  Holland.  I  wrote  a 
tolerable  good  hand,  was  well  skilled  in  accounts,  my  figure 
was  somewhat  interesting,  and  I  soon  obtained  employment 
as  a  merchant's  clerk.  My  good  conduct,  and  my  zeal  for 
the  interest  of  my  patron,  procured  me  his  confidence  and 
his  daughter's  love.  On  his  retiring  from  business,  he  gave 
up  his  whole  affairs  to  me,  and  I  married  his  daughter. 
Stay  here,  then,  and  live  with  a  grateful  family,  who  will 
look  up  to  you  as  their  benefactor,  and  make  this  house 
your  home." 


220  THE    MTTSETTM. 


A    GHOST    STORY    EXPLAINED. 

IT  was  shrewdly  remarked  by  Voltaire,  that  the  early 
stages  of  society  are  the  times  for  prodigies.  Scotland  was 
not  civilized  when  Macbeth  met  the  witches  ;  nor  was 
Rome,  when  Curtius  leaped  into  the  Gulf.  People  of 
weak  intellects  have,  at  all  times,  believed  in  apparitions. 
It  is  unnecessary  now  to  say,  that  stories  of  ghosts  are 
mistakes  or  impositions,  and  that  they  might  always  be 
detected,  if  people  had  ingenuity  to  discover  the  trick,  01 
courage  enough  to  search  out  the  cause  of  their  fright. 

In  all  relations  of  this  kind,  there  is  manifestly  an  en- 
deavor to  make  the  event  as  supernatural,  wonderful,  and 
as  well  attested  as  possible,  to  prevent  the  suspicion  of 
trick,  and  to  cut  off  all  objections  which  might  be  made  to 
its  credulity.  We  are  about  to  comply  with  the  establish- 
ed custom,  and  shall  relate  a  story  of  a  ghost,  which,  we 
are  bold  to  say,  has  the  strongest  circumstances  of  the 
wonderful,  the  supernatural,  and  the  well  attested,  of  any 
upon  record. 

At  a  town  in  the  west  of  England  was  held  a  club  of 
twenty-four  people,  which  assembled  once  a  week  to  drink 
punch,  smoke  tobacco,  and  talk  politics.  Like  Ruben's 
academy  at  Antwerp,  each  member  had  his  peculiar  chair, 
and  the  president's  was  more  exalted  than  the  rest.  One 
of  the  members  had  been  in  a  dying  state  for  some  time  ; 
of  course  his  chair  while  he  was  absent  remained  vacant. 

The  club  being  met  on  their  usual  night,  inquiries  were 
naturally  made  after  their  associate.  As  he  lived  in  the 
adjoining  house,  a  particular  friend  went  himself  to  inquire 
for  him,  and  returned  with  the  dismal  tidings  that  he  could 
not  possibly  survive  the  night.  This  threw  a  gloom  over 
the  company,  and  all  efforts  to  turn  the  conversation  from 
the  sad  subject  before  them  were  ineffectual. 

About  midnight,  (the  time,  by  long  prescription,  appro- 
priated for  the  walking  of  spectres,)  the  door  opened  —  arid 
the  form  in  white  of  the  dying,  or  rather  of  the  dead  man, 
walked  into  the  room,  and  took  his  seat  in  the  accustomed 
chair  —  there  he  remained  in  silence,  and  in  silence  was  he 
gazed  at.  The  apparition  continued  a  sufficient  time  in 


THE    MUSEUM.  221 

tnc  chair  to  assure  all  present  of  the  reality  of  the  vision 
at  length  he  arose  and  stalked  toward  the  door,  which  he 
opened,  as  if  living — went  out,  and  then  shut  the  door 
after  him. 

After  a  long  pause,  some  one  at  last  had  the  resolution  to 
say,  "  If  only  one  of  us  had  seen  this,  he  would  not  have 
been  believed,  but  it  is  impossible  that  so  many  persons  can 
be  deceived." 

The  company  by  degrees,  recovered  their  speech  ;  and 
the  whole  conversation,  as  may  be  imagined,  was  upon  the 
dreadful  subject  which  had  engaged  their  attention.  They 
broke  up  and  went  home. 

In  the  morning,  inquiry  was  made  after  their  sick  friend 
— it  was  answered  by  an  account  of  his  death,  which  hap- 
pened nearly  at  the  time  of  his  appearing  in  the  club. 
There  could  be  little  doubt  before,  but  now  nothing  could 
be  more  certain  than  the  reality  of  the  apparition,  which 
had  been  seen  by  so  many  persons  together. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  that  such  a  story  spread  over  the 
country,  and  found  credit  even  from  infidels :  for,  in  this 
case,  all  reasoning  became  superfluous,  when  opposed  to 
a  ptein  fact,  attested  by  twenty-three  witnesses.  To  as- 
sert the  doctrine  of  the  fixed  laws  of  nature  was  ridiculous, 
when  there  were  so  many  people  of  credit  to  prove  that 
they  might  be  unfixed. 

Years  rolled  on — the  story  ceased  to  engage  attention, 
and  it  was  forgotten,  unless  when  occasionally  produced 
to  silence  an  unbeliever. 

One  of  the  club  was  an  apothecary.  In  the  course  of 
his  practice  he  was  called  to  an  old  woman  whose  profes- 
sion was  attending  on  sick  persons.  She  told  him,  that 
she  could  leave  the  world  with  a  quiet  conscience  but  for 
one  thing  which  lay  on  her  mind — "  Do  you  not  remember 

Mr. ,  whose  ghost  has  been  so  much  talked  of?  I  was 

his  nurse.  The  night  he  died,  I  left  the  room  for  something 
I  wanted — I  am  sure  I  had  not  been  absent  long ;  but,  at 
my  return,  I  found  the  bed  without  my  patient.  He  was 
delirious,  and  I  feared  that  he  had  thrown  himself  out  of 
the  window.  I  was  so  frightened  that  I  had  no  power  to 
stir ;  but  after  some  time,  to  my  great  astonishment,  he 
entered  the  room  shivering,  and  his  teeth  chattering — laid 

41* 


222  THE    MUSEUM. 

down  on  the  bed,  and  died.  Considering  myself  as  the 
cause  of  his  death,  I  kept  this  a  secret,  for  fear  of  what 
might  be  done  to  me.  Though  I  could  contradict  all  the 
story  of  the  ghost,  I  dared  not  to  do  it.  I  knew  by  what 
had  happened,  that  it  was  he  himself  who  had  been  in  the 
club  room,  (perhaps  recollecting  that  it  was  the  night  of 
the  meeting,)  but  I  hope  God,  and  the  poor  gentleman's 
friends,  will  forgive  me,  and  I  shall  die  contented  !" 


INEFFICACY    OF    TORTURE    TO    EXTORT    CONFESSION. 

DON  BALTHASAR  OROBIO  was  born  at  Seville,  in  Spain, 
about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  was 
carefully  educated  in  Judaism  by  his  parents,  who  were 
Jews,  though  they  outwardly  professed  themselves  Roman 
Catholics ;  abstaining  from  the  practice  of  their  religion  in 
every  thing,  except  only  the  observation  of  the  fast  of  ex- 
piation, in  the  month  Tisis,  or  September.  Orobio  studied 
the  scholastic  philosophy  used  in  Spain,  and  became  so 
skilled  in  it  that  he  was  made  professor  of  metaphysics  in 
the  university  of  Salamanca.  Afterwards,  however,  ap- 
plying himself  to  the  study  of  physic,  he  practised  that  art 
at  Seville  with  success,  till,  accused  of  Judaism,  he  was 
thrown  into  the  inquisition,  and  suffered  the  most  dreadful 
cruelties,  in  order  to  force  a  confession.  He  himself  tells 
us,  that  he  was  put  into  a  dark  dungeon,  so  straight  that 
he  could  scarce  turn  himself  in  it ,  and  suffered  so  many 
hardships  that  his  brain  began  to  be  disturbed.  He  talked 
to  himself  often  in  this  way :  "  am  I  indeed  that  Don  Bal- 
thasar  Orobio,  who  walked  freely  about  in  Seville,  who 
was  entirely  at  ease,  and  had  the  blessings  of  a  wife  and 
children  ?"  sometimes,  supposing  that  his  past  life  was  but 
a  dream,  and  that  the  dungeon  where  he  then  lay  was  his 
true  birth-place,  and  which,  to  all  appearance,  would  also 
prove  the  place  of  his  death :  at  other  times,  as  he  had  a 
very  great  metaphysical  head,  he  first  formed  arguments 
of  one  kind,  and  then  resolved  them ;  performing  thus  the 
three  different  parts  of  opponent,  respondent  and  model  a- 
tor,  at  the  same  time.  In  thip  'vhimsical  way  he  amused 


THB     MUSKUM.  228 

himself  from  time  to  time,  and  constantly  denied  that  he 
was  a  Jew.  After  having  appeared  twice  or  thrice  before 
the  inquisitors,  he  was  used  as  follows :  at  the  bottom  of  a 
subterraneous  vault,  lighted  by  two  or  three  small  torches, 
he  appeared  before  two  persons,  one  of  whom  was  judge 
of  the  inquisition,  and  the  other  secretary ;  who  asking 
him  whether  he  would  confess  the  truth,  protested,  that  in 
case  of  a  criminal's  denial,  the  holy  office  would  not  be 
deemed  the  cause  of  his  death,  if  he  should  expire  under 
the  torments  ;  but,  that  it  must  be  imputed  entirely  to  his 
own  obstinacy.  Then  the  executioner  stripped  off  his 
clothes,  tied  his  feet  and  hands  with  a  strong  cord,  and  set 
him  upon  a  little  stool,  while  he  passed  the  cord  through 
some  iron  buckles  which  were  fixed  in  the  wall ;  then 
drawing  away  the  stool,  he  remained  hanging  by  the  cord, 
which  the  executioner  still  drew  harder  and  harder,  to 
make  him  confess,  till  a  surgeon  assured  the  court  of  ex- 
aminants,  that  he  could  not  possibly  bear  more  without 
expiring.  These  cords  put  him  to  exquisite  tortures,  by 
cutting  into  the  flesh,  and  making  the  blood  burst  from  un- 
der his  nails.  As  there  was  certainly  danger  that  the  cords 
would  tear  off  his  flesh,  to  prevent  the  worst,  care  was 
taken  to  gird  him  with  some  bands  about  the  breast,  which, 
however,  were  drawn  so  very  tight  that  he  would  have 
run  the  risk  of  not  being  able  to  breathe,  if  he  had  not 
held  his  breath  in  while  the  executioner  put  the  bands 
around  him ;  by  which  device  his  lungs  had  room  enough 
to  perform  their  functions.  In  the  severest  extremity  of 
his  sufferings,  he  was  told  that  this  was  but  the  beginning 
of  his  torments,  and  that  he  had  better  confess  before  they 
proceeded  to  extremities.  Orobio  added  further,  that  the 
executioner  being  on  a  small  ladder,  in  order  to  frighten 
him,  frequently  let  it  fall  against  the  shin  bones  of  his  legs ; 
so  that  the  staves,  being  sharp,  created  exquisite  pain.  At 
last,  after  three  years' confinement,  finding  themselves  baf- 
fled by  his  perseverance  in  denying  his  religion,  they  or- 
dered his  wounds  to  be  cured,  and  discharged  him.  As 
soon  as  he  had  obtained  liberty,  he  resolved  to  quit  the 
Spanish  dominions  ;  and  going  to  France,  was  made  pro- 
fessor of  physic  at  Thoulouse.  The  theses  which  he  wrote, 
as  candidate  for  this  place,  were  upon  putrefaction ;  and 


THE    MtTSEtTM  . 

he  maintained  them  with  so  much  metaphysical  subtlety, 
as  embarrassed  all  his  competitors.  He  continued  in  this 
city  for  some  time,  still  outwardly  professing  popery  ;  but, 
at  last,  weary  by  dissembling,  he  repaired  to  Amsterdam, 
where  he  was  circumcised,  took  the  name  of  Isaac,  and 
professed  Judaism  ;  still  continuing,  however,  to  practise 
physic,  in  which  he  was  much  esteemed.  This  man  at  last 
ended  his  days  in  peace,  in  the  year  1687. 


TERRIFIC  ADVENTURE  OF  A  FRENCH  TRAVELLER. 

IT  is  almost  impossible  to  conceive,  that  any  mental  suf- 
fering, the  offspring  of  fear,  can  exceed  that  experienced 
by  the  traveller  whose  adventure  is  the  subject  of  the  fol- 
lowing narrative.  There  was  no  illusion  in  it — all  was 
real :  yet  in  him  the  horror  of  a  supernatural  enemy  ab- 
sorbed all  dread  of  a  mortal  assassin,  which  his  midnight 
intruder  might  have  well  passed  for. 

M.  de  Conage,  during  an  excursion  he  was  making  with 
a  friend  through  one  of  the  French  provinces,  was  com- 
pelled one  night  to  take  refuge  from  a  violent  storm  in  an 
obscure  inn,  which  had  little  else  than  M.  de  C.'s  know- 
ledge of  the  landlord  to  recommend  it.  Mine  host  had 
all  the  inclination  in  the  world  to  accommodate  the  travel- 
lers to  their  satisfaction ;  but  unfortunately  he  possessed 
not  the  means.  The  few  chambers  the  house  contained, 
were  already  mostly  in  the  occupation  of  other  guests  ; 
there  remained  only  a  small  parlor  unengaged,  situated  on 
the  ground  floor,  with  a  closet  adjoining,  with  which,  in- 
convenient as  they  were,  M.  de  C.  and  his  friend  were 
obliged  to  content  themselves.  The  closet  was  prepared 
with  a  very  uninviting  bed  for  the  latter,  while  they  sup- 
ped together  in  the  parlor,  where  it  had  been  decided  M. 
de  C.  was  to  sleep.  As  their  intention  was  to  depart 
very  early  in  the  morning,  they  retired  to  their  separate 
beds,  and  ere  long  fell  into  a  profound  slumber.  Short, 
however,  had  been  M.  de  C.'s  repose,  when  he  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  voice  of  his  companion,  in  an  agony,  crying 
out  that  he  was  being  strangled.  Though  he  distinctly 


THE    MUSEUM.  225 

heard  the  voice  of  his  friend,  he  could  not,  for  some  time, 
sufficiently  shake  off  his  drowsiness  to  comprehend  the  im- 
port of  his  neighbor's  exclamations.  When  sufficiently 
master  of  himself  to  be  able  to  speak,  he  anxiously  inquired 
the  cause  of  his  distress.  No  answer  was  returned — no 
sound  was  heard.  All  was  silent  as  the  grave.  Greatly 
alarmed,  M.  de  C.  started  from  his  bed  ;  and  taking  up 
his  candle,  proceeded  to  the  closet.  Imagine  his  horror 
and  astonishment,  when  he  beheld  his  friend  prostrate  and 
senseless,  beneath  the  grasp  of  a  dead  man,  loaded  with 
chains  ! 

The  doleful  cries  which  this  dreadful  sight  could  not  fail 
to  call  forth,  soon  brought  the  host  to  his  assistance,  whose 
consternation  at  the  appalling  spectacle  acquitted  him  of 
being  in  any  way  an  actor  to  the  tragic  scene  before  them. 
It  being  a  more  pressing  duty  to  endeavor  at  the  recovery 
of  the  senseless  traveller  than  to  unravel  the  mysterious 
event  which  had  reduced  him  to  so  shocking  a  situation, 
the  barber  of  the  village  was  immediately  sent  for,  and  in 
the  mean  time  they  extricated  the  traveller  from  the  grasp 
of  the  man,  whose  hand  had  in  death  closed  on  his  throat 
with  a  force  which  rendered  it  difficult  to  unclench.  While 
performing  this,  they  had  the  happiness  to  find  that  the 
vital  spark  still  faintly  glowed  in  the  breast  of  the  sufferer, 
though  entirely  fled  from  that  of  his  assaulter.  The  oper- 
ation of  bleeding,  which  the  barber  now  arrived  to  per- 
form, gave  that  spark  new  vigor,  and  he  was  shortly  put 
to  bed  out  of  danger,  and  left  to  all  that  could  now  be  of 
service  to  him — repose. 

M.  d£  C.  then  felt  himself  at  liberty  to  satisfy  his  curi- 
osity in  developing  the  cause  of  so  terrible  an  adventure, 
which  was  quickly  unraveled  by  his  host,  who  informed 
him  that  the  deceased  was  his  groom,  who  had  within  a 
few  days  exhibited  such  strong  marks  of  mental  derange- 
ment, as  to  render  it  absolutely  necessary  to  use  coercive 
measures  to  prevent  his  either  doing  mischief  to  himself  or 
others,  and  that  he  had  been,  in  consequence,  confined 
chained  in  the  stables — but  that  it  was  evident  his  fetters 
had  proved  too  weak  to  resist  the  strength  of  his  frenzy ; 
and  that  in  liberating  himself,  he  had  passed  through  a  little 
door,  imprudently  left  unlocked,  which  led  from  the  saddle- 


228  THE    MTJSETTM. 

room  into  the  closet  in  which  the  traveller  slept,  and  had 
entered  it  to  die  with  such  frightful  effects  upon  his  bed. 

When  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  M.  de  C.'s  friend 
was  sufficiently  convalescent  to  be  spoken  with  on  the 
subject,  he  stated  that  never  in  his  life  had  he  suffered 
so  much,  and  that  he  was  confident,  had  his  senses  not 
forsaken  him,  madness  must  have  ensued  as  the  conse- 
quence of  a  prolonged  state  of  such  inexpressible  terror. 


TRIAL    OF   JOHN    HORNE    TOOKE. 

THE  following  anecdote  of  this  distinguished  gentleman, 
was  first  divulged  about  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  having, 
for  obvious  reasons  been  kept  secret  during  the  lives  of  two 
of  the  principals.  It  is  well  known,  that  a  mystery  hung 
over  the  prosecution  of  the  celebrated  character  who  is 
the  subject  of  it ;  and  the  publisher,  in  reference  to  Erskine's 
speech,  says,  "  it  requires  no  other  introduction  or  preface 
than  an  attentive  perusal  of  the  case  of  Thomas  Hardy, 
the  charge  being  the  same,  and  the  evidence  not  materially 
different."  It  is,  however,  not  easy  to  conceive  upon  what 
grounds  the  crown  could  have  expected  to  convict  Mr. 
Tooke,  after  Mr.  Hardy  had  been  acquitted ;  since  the 
jury  upon  the  first  trial  (some  of  whom  were  also  sworn  as 
jurors  upon  the  second)  must  be  supposed,  by  the  verdict 
which  had  just  been  delivered,  to  have  negatived  the  main 
fact  alleged  by  both  indictments. 

This  narrative,  therefore,  develops  the  mystery,  and 
explains  the  views  and  the  resources  of  the  prosecutors. 

At  the  period,  when  the  sensations  excited  in  our  own 
country  by  the  burst  of  liberty  in  France  were  in  full  exer- 
cise, the  celebrated  John  Home  Tooke  gave  a  weekly  en- 
tertainment, at  which  the  leaders  of  the  party  he  espoused 
were  generally  present,  and  political  discussions  were  car- 
ried on  with  a  freedom  which  soon  attracted  the  notice  of 
the  government.  On  one  of  those  occasions,  a  gentleman 
was  introduced  by  a  friend,  who  represented  him  as  a 
member  of  parliament  from  the  north ;  a  man  of  indepen- 
dent principles,  and  firmly  attached  to  the  cause  of  reform. 


THE    MUSEUM.  227 

At  a  subsequent  meeting  this  person  proposed  that  Mr 
Tooke  should  compose  a  speech  for  him  on  a  popular  sub- 
ject which  was  shortly  to  be  debated  in  the  house.  This 
was  accordingly  done,  and  it  was  delivered,  but  drew  forth 
not  a  single  observation  from  any  of  the  opposite  party, 
and  the  question  was  lost  without  any  notice  of  the  argu- 
ments it  contained.  Another  was  then  proposed,  which 
Mr.  Tooke  recommended  to  be  accompanied  with  a  mo- 
tion for  increasing  the  pay  of  the  navy.  tDne  of  the  party 
remarked,  that  such  a  motion  would  create  a  mutiny. 
"  That,"  said  Mr.  Tooke,  "  is  the  very  thing  we  want." 
What  followed,  it  is  unnecessary  to  add,  for  their  plans 
were  frustrated  by  the  arrest  of  Mr.  Tooke  the  next  day, 
on  a  charge  of  high  treason. 

At  an  early  period  of  his  imprisonment,  while  he  was 
one  day  occupied  in  conjectures  on  the  immediate  cause 
of  arrest,  and  the  nature  of  the  evidence  by  which  the 
charge  against  him  was  to  be  supported,  one  of  the  atten- 
dants informed  him  that  a  person  wished  to  speak  to  him. 
Mr.  Tooke  desired  he  might  be  admitted,  and  a  gentleman 
was  introduced  whose  person  was  partially  concealed  by 
a  loose  cloak  or  coat.  After  a  short  general  conversation, 
the  attendant  having  withdrawn,  he  asked  Mr.  Tooke 
whether  he  was  aware  of  the  circumstances  which  led  to 
his  arrest,  and  of  the  person  who  gave  the  information  ? 
Being  answered  in  the  negative,  "  Then,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I 
now  apprise  you,  that  the  proposal  and  remark  made  by 
you,  on  the  subject  of  increasing  the  pay  of  the  navy,  form 
the  ground  of  the  charge ;  and  the  only  witness  on  whose 
evidence  they  expect  to  convict  you,  is  that  very  person, 
who  was  to  deliver  the  speech.  I  am  a  member  of  his 
majesty's  privy  council,  among  whom  it  is  now  in  debate, 
whether  that  person  shall  be  produced  as  a  witness  on  the 
part  of  the  crown,  or  whether  they  shall  suffer  you  to  call 
him  up  for  the  defence,  and  so  convict  you  out  of  the  mouth 
of  your  own  witness.  When  that  shall  have  been  decided, 
you  will  see  me  again." 

After  his  departure,  Mr.  Tooke  sent  for  two  of  his  con- 
fidential friends,  and,  after  communicating  to  them  the  cir- 
cumstances, addressed  one  of  them  (a  Norfolk  gentleman) 
to  the  following  effect : — "  You  must  go  to  this  scoundrel, 


228  THE    MUSEUM. 

and  tell  him  I  intend  to  subpoena  him  as  a  witness  ;  and  you 
must  represent  to  him,  that,  unless  he  interests  himself 
powerfully  in  my  behalf,  I  shall  be  lost ;  that  my  whole 
dependence  is  on  him,  as  the  strength  of  my  defence  will 
rest  upon  the  evidence  that  he  may  adduce.  Add  every 
argument  that  you  can  invent  to  convince  him  that  I  con- 
sider my  life  entirely  at  his  mercy,  and  that  I  look  upon 
him  as  my  best  friend  :  in  short,  that  all  is  lost  without  his 
friendship  and  support." 

The  result  was,  that  the  strongest  assurances  of  his  friend- 
ship were  given,  and  the  next  day  the  nobleman  again 
visited  Mr.  Tooke,  and  informed  him  that  the  council  had 
finally  determined  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  call  him 
for  the  defence,  and  the  attorney-general  should  elicit  the 
necessary  evidence  by  the  cross  examination.  At  this  in- 
terview, Mr.  Tooke,  on  the  part  of  himself  and  his  friends, 
entered  into  a  solemn  obligation  never  to  divulge  the  affaii 
until  after  the  death  of  the  nobleman  who  had  thus  hazard- 
ed his  life  to  save  that  of  his  friend. 

During  the  interval,  previous  to  the  trial,  frequent  com- 
munications took  place  between  Mr.  Tooke's  friends  and 
the  northern  member :  by  which  he  as  well  as  his  employ- 
ers, were  completely  cajoled ;  and  when  the  trial  took 
place,  they  were  so  sure  of  their  victim,  as  to  have  got  hun- 
dreds of  warrants  ready,  to  be  instantly  issued  for  the  ap- 
prehension, of  his  partisans  in  different  parts  of  the  coun- 
try. But,  what  must  have  been  their  astonishment  and 
mortification  to  find,  after  the  case  on  the  part  of  the  crown 
had  been  gone  through  and  closed,  that  this  witness  was 
not  called  up  by  Mr.  Tooke,  he  leaving  his  case  as  it  stood 
upon  the  summing  up,  to  the  honesty  and  good  sense  of 
his  jury !  the  attorney-general  and  his  employers  were 
thunderstruck ;  and  after  the  verdict  of  acquittal  was  pro- 
nounced, the  learned  judge  remarked  to  a  person  who 
stood  near  him,  "  that  the  evidence  for  the  crown  was 
certainly  insufficient  to  convict  the  prisoner,  after  the  fate 
of  the  former  indictments :  but  what  motives  he  had  for 
not  calling  certain  witnesses  in  his  defence,  after  having 
subpoenaed  them,  was  best  known  to  himself." 


TEE    MUSEUM.  229 


THE    HARPES. 

THE  following  strange  but  authentic  account  of  the 
Harpes  is  taken  from  "  Letters  from  the  West,"  by  Judge 
Hall.  The  Author's  name  is  a  sufficient  voucher  for  its 
truth.  Any  attempt  to  improve  the  article  would  be  worse 
than  losing  time,  and  we  therefore  give  his  language  ver- 
batim. 

Many  years  ago,  two  men  named  Harpe,  appeared  in 
Kentucky,  spreading  death  and  terror  wherever  they  went. 
Little  else  was  known  of  them  but  that  they  passed  for 
brothers,  and  came  from  the  borders  of  Virginia.  They 
had  three  women  with  them,  who  were  treated  as  their 
wives,  and  several  children,  with  whom  they  traversed 
the  mountainous  and  thinly  settled  parts  of  Virginia  into 
Kentucky,  marking  their  course  with  blood.  Their  his- 
tory is  wonderful,  as  well  from  the  number  and  variety,  as 
the  incredible  atrocity  of  their  adventures  ;  and  as  it  has 
never  yet  appeared  in  print,  I  shall  compress  within  this 
letter  a  few  of  its  most  prominent  facts. 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  1799,  a  young  gentleman, 
named  Langford,  of  a  respectable  family  in  Mecklenburg 
Co.,  in  Virginia,  set  out  from  this  state  for  Kentucky,  with 
the  intention  of  passing  through  the  Wilderness,  as  it  was 
then  called,  by  the  route  generally  known  as  Boon's  Trace. 
On  reaching  the  vicinity  of  the  wilderness,  a  mountainous 
and  uninhabited  tract,  which  at  that  time  separated  the 
settled  parts  of  Kentucky,  from  those  of  Virginia,  he  stop- 
ped to  breakfast  at  a  public  house  near  Big  Rock-Castle 
River.  Travellers  of  this  description — any  other  indeed 
than  hardy  woodsmen — were  unwilling  to  pass  singly 
through  this  lonely  region  ;  and  they  generally  waited  on 
its  confines  for  others,  and  travelled  through  in  parties. 
Mr.  Langford,  either  not  dreading  danger,  or  not  choosing 
to  delay,  determined  to  proceed  alone.  While  breakfast 
was  preparing,  the  Harpes  and  their  women  came  up. 
Their  appearance  denoted  poverty,  with  but  little  regard 
to  cleanliness ;  two  very  indifferent  horses,  with  some  bags 
swung  across  them,  and  a  rifle  gun  or  two,  composed 
nearly  their  whole  equipage.  Squalid  and  miserable,  they 

42 


230  THE     MUSEUM* 

seemed  objects  of  pity  rather  than  of  fear,  and  their  fero- 
cious glances  were  attributed  more  to  hunger  than  to  guilty 
passion.  They  were  entire  strangers  in  that  neighbor- 
hood, and  like  Mr.  Langford,  were  about  to  cross  the  Wil- 
derness. When  breakfast  was  served  up,  the  landlord,  as 
was  customary  at  such  places,  in  those  times,  invited  all 
the  persons  who  were  assembled  in  the  common,  perhaps 
the  only  room  of  his  little  inn,  to  sit  down  ;  but  the  Harpea 
declined,  alleging  their  want  of  money  as  the  reason. 
Langford,  who  was  of  a  lively,  generous  disposition,  on 
hearing  this,  invited  them  to  partake  of  the  meal  at  his  ex- 
pense ;  they  accepted  the  invitation,  and  ate  voraciously. 
When  they  had  thus  refreshed  themselves  and  were  about 
to  renew  their  journey,  Mr.  Langford  called  for  the  bill, 
and  in  the  act  of  discharging  it,  imprudently  displayed  a 
handful  of  silver.  They  then  set  out  together. 

A  few  days  after,  some  men  who  were  conducting  a 
drove  of  cattle  to  Virginia,  by  the  same  road  which  had 
been  travelled  by  Mr.  Langford  and  the  Harpes,  had  ar- 
rived within  a  few  miles  of  Big  Rock-Castle  River,  when 
their  cattle  took  fright,  and  quitting  the  road,  rushed  down 
a  hill  into  the  woods.  In  collecting  them,  they  discovered 
the  dead  body  of  a  man  concealed  behind  a  log,  and  cov- 
ered with  brush  and  leaves.  It  was  now  evident,  that  the 
cattle  had  been  alarmed  by  the  smell  of  blood  in  the  road, 
and  as  the  body  exhibited  marks  of  violence,  it  was  at 
once  suspected  that  a  murder  had  been  perpetrated  but 
recently.  The  corpse  was  taken  to  the  house  where  the 
Harpes  had  breakfasted,  and  recognised  to  be  that  of  Mr. 
Langford,  whose  name  was  marked  upon  several  parts  of 
his  dress.  Suspicion  fell  upon  the  Harpes,  who  were  pur- 
sued and  apprehended  near  the  Crab  Orchard.  They 
were  taken  to  Stanford,  the  seat  of  justice  for  Lincoln 
county,  where  they  were  examined  and  committed  by  an 
inquiring  court,  sent  to  Danville  for  safe  keeping,  and 
probably  for  trial,  as  the  system  of  district  courts  was  then 
in  operation  in  Kentucky.  Previous  to  the  time  of  trial 
they  made  their  escape,  and  proceeded  to  Henderson 
county,  which  at  that  time  was  just  beginning  to  be  set- 
tled. 

Here  they  soon  acquired  a  dreadful  celebrity.     Neither 


THE    MX7SETTM.  281 

avarice,  want,  nor  any  of  the  usual  inducements  to  the 
commission  of  crime,  seemed  to  govern  their  conduct.  A 
savage  thirst  for  blood — a  deep  rooted  malignity  against 
human  nature,  could  alone  be  discovered  in  their  actions. 
They  murdered  every  defenceless  being  who  fell  in  their 
way,  without  distinction  of  age,  sex  or  color.  In  the  night 
they  stole  secretly  to  the  cabin,  slaughtered  its  inhabitants 
and  burned  their  dwelling — while  the  farmer  who  left  his 
house  by  day,  returned  to  witness  the  dying  agonies  of  his 
wife  and  children,  and  the  conflagration  of  his  possessions. 
Plunder  was  not  their  object :  travellers  they  robbed  and 
murdered,  but  from  the  inhabitants  they  took  only  what 
would  have  been  freely  given  to  them,  and  no  more  than 
was  immediately  necessary  to  supply  the  wants  of  nature  ; 
they  destroyed  without  having  suffered  injury,  or  the  pros- 
pect of  gain.  A  negro  boy,  riding  to  mill  with  a  bag  of 
corn,  was  seized  by  them,  and  his  brains  dashed  out ;  but 
the  horse  he  rode,  and  the  grain,  were  left  unmolested. 
Females  and  children  no  longer  dared  to  stir  abroad :  un- 
armed men  feared  to  encounter  a  Harpe  ;  and  the  soli- 
tary hunter  as  he  trod  the  forest,  looked  around  him  with 
a  watchful  eye,  and  when  he  saw  a  stranger,  picked  his 
flint  and  stood  on  the  defensive. 

It  seems  incredible  that  such  atrocities  could  have  been 
repeated  in  a  country  famed  for  the  hardihood  and  gallantry 
of  its  people  ;  in  Kentucky,  the  cradle  of  courage,  and  the 
nurse  of  warriors.  But  that  part  of  Kentucky  which  was 
the  scene  of  these  barbarities  was  then  almost  a  wilder- 
ness ;  and  the  vigilance  of  the  Harpes  for  a  time  insured 
impunity.  The  spoils  of  their  dreadful  warfare  furnished 
them  with  the  means  of  violence,  and  of  escape.  Mounted 
on  fine  horses,  they  plunged  into  the  forest,  eluded  pursuit 
by  frequently  changing  their  course,  and  appeared,  to 
perpetrate  new  enormities,  at  points  distant  from  those 
where  they  were  supposed  to  lurk.  On  these  occasions, 
they  often  left  their  wives  and  children  behind  them ;  and 
it  is  a  fact  honorable  to  the  community,  that  vengeance  for 
these  bloody  deeds  was  not  wreaked  on  the  helpless,  but 
in  some  degree  guilty  companions  of  the  perpetrators  ;  yet 
justice  was  not  long  delayed. 

A  frontier  is  often  the  retreat  of  loose  individuals,  who, 


232  THE    MUSEUM. 

if  not  familiar  with  crime,  have  very  blunt  perceptions  of 
virtue.  The  genuine  woodsmen  are  independent,  brave 
and  upright ;  but  as  the  jackal  pursues  the  lion  to  devour 
his  leavings,  the  footsteps  of  the  sturdy  hunter  are  closely 
pursued  by  miscreants  destitute  of  his  noble  qualities 
These  are  the  idlest  of  the  human  race — averse  to  labor, 
and  impatient  of  the  restraints  of  law  and  the  courtesies  of 
civilized  society.  Without  the  ardor,  the  activity,  the  love 
of  sport,  and  patience  of  fatigue,  which  distinguish  the  bold 
backwoodsman,  these  are  doomed  to  the  forest  by  sheer 
laziness,  and  hunt  for  a  bare  subsistence  ;  they  are  the 
"  cankers  of  a  calm  world  and  a  long  peace,"  the  helpless 
nobodies,  who,  in  a  country  where  none  starve  and  few 
beg,  sleep  until  hunger  pinches,  then  stroll  into  the  woods 
for  a  meal.  Frequently  they  are  as  harmless  as  the  wart 
upon  a  man's  nose,  and  as  unsightly ;  but  they  are  some- 
times mere  wax  in  the  hands  of  the  designing,  and  become 
the  accessories  of  that  guilt  which  they  have  not  the  cour- 
age or  the  industry  to  perpetrate.  With  such  men  the  Harpes 
are  supposed  to  have  sometimes  lurked.  None  are  known 
to  have  participated  in  their  deeds  of  blood,  nor  suspected 
of  sharing  their  counsels  ;  but  they  sometimes  crept  to  the 
miserable  cabins  of  those  who  feared  or  were  not  inclined 
to  betray  them. 

Two  travellers  came  one  night  to  the  house  of  a  man 
named  Stegal,  and  claimed  under  his  little  roof  that  hospi- 
tality, which,  in  a  new  country,  is  found  in  every  habita- 
tion. Shortly  after,  the  Harpes  arrived.  It  was  not,  it 
seems,  their  first  visit ;  for  Mrs.  Stegal  had  received  in- 
structions from  them,  which  she  dared  not  disobey,  never 
to  address  them  by  their  real  names  in  the  presence  oi 
third  persons.  On  this  occasion  they  informed  her  that 
they  intended  to  personate  methodist preachers,  and  ordered 
her  to  arrange  matters  so  that  one  of  them  should  sleep 
with  each  of  the  strangers,  whom  they  intended  to  murder. 
Stegal  was  absent,  and  the  woman  was  obliged  to  obey. 
The  strangers  were  completely  deceived  as  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  newly  arrived  guests ;  and  when  it  was  an- 
nounced that  the  house  contained  but  two  beds,  they  cheer- 
fully assented  to  the  proposed  arrangement :  one  crept 
into  a  bed  on  the  lower  floor  with  one  ruffian,  while  the 


THE    MUSEUM.  233 

other  retired  to  the  loft  with  another.  Both  the  strangers 
became  their  victims ;  but  these  bloody  ruffians,  who 
seemed  neither  to  feel  shame,  nor  dread  punishment,  de- 
termined to  leave  behind  them  no  evidence  of  their  crime, 
and  consummated  the  foul  tragedy  by  murdering  their 
hostess  and  setting  fire  to  the  dwelling. 

From  this  scene  of  arson,  robbery,  and  murder,  the  per- 
petrators fled  precipitately,  favored  by  a  heavy  fall  of  rain 
which,  as  they  believed,  effaced  their  footsteps.  They  did 
not  cease  their  flight  until  late  the  ensuing  day,  when  they 
halted  at  a  spot  which  they  supposed  to  be  far  from  any 
human  habitation.  Here  they  kindled  a  fire  and  were 
drying  their  clothes,  when  an  emigrant,  who  had  pitched 
his  tent  hard  by,  strolled  towards  their  camp.  He  was  in 
search  of  his  horses,  which  had  strayed,  and  civilly  asked 
if  they  had  seen  them.  This  unsuspecting  woodsman  they 
slew,  and  continued  their  retreat. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  outrages  of  these  murderers  had 
not  escaped  notice,  nor  were  they  tamely  submitted  to. 
The  governor  of  Kentucky  had  offered  a  reward  for  their 
heads,  and  parties  of  volunteers  had  pursued  them ;  they 
had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  escape  punishment  by  their 
cunning,  but  had  not  the  prudence  to  desist,  or  to  fly  the 
country. 

A  man  named  Leiper,  in  revenge  for  the  murder  of  Mrs. 
Stegal,  raised  a  party,  pursued,  and  discovered  the  assas- 
sins, on  the  day  succeeding  that  atrocious  deed.  They 
came  so  suddenly  upon  the  Harpes,  that  they  had  only 
time  to  fly  in  different  directions.  Accident  aided  the  pur 
suers.  One  of  the  Harpes  was  a  large,  and  the  other  a 
small  man  ;  the  first  usually  rode  a  strong,  powerful  horse, 
the  other  a  fleet,  but  much  smaller  animal,  and  in  the  hurry 
of  flight  they  had  exchanged  horses.  The  chase  was  long 
and  hot :  the  smaller  Harpe  escaped  unnoticed  ;  but  the 
other,  who  was  kept  in  view,  spurred  on  the  noble  animal 
he  rode,  and  which,  already  jaded,  began  to  fail  at  the  end 
of  five  or  six  miles.  Still  the  miscreant  pressed  forward  ; 
for  although  none  of  his  pursuers  were  near  but  Leiper, 
who  had  outridden  his  companions,  he  was  not  willing  to 
risk  a  combat  with  a  man  as  strong,  and  perhaps  bolder 
than  himself,  who  was  animated  with  a  noble  spirit  of  in- 

42* 


234  THE    MUSEUM. 

dignation  against  a  shocking  outrage.  Leiper  was  mounted 
upon  a  horse  of  celebrated  powers,  which  he  had  borrowed 
from  a  neighbor  for  the  occasion.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
chase,  he  had  pressed  his  charger  to  the  height  of  his  speed, 
carefully  keeping  on  the  track  of  Harpe,  of  whom  he  some- 
times caught  a  glimpse  as  he  ascended  the  hill,  and  again 
lost  sight  in  the  valleys  and  the  brush.  But  as  he  gained 
on  the  foe,  and  became  sure  of  his  victim,  he  slackened  his 
pace,  cocked  his  rifle,  and  pursued,  sometimes  calling  upon 
the  outlaw  to  surrender.  At  length,  in  leaping  a  ravine, 
Harpe's  horse  sprained  a  limb  and  Leiper  overtook  him. 
Both  were  armed  with  rifles.  Leiper  fired,  and  wounded 
Harpe  through  the  body ;  the  latter,  turning  in  his  seat, 
levelled  his  piece,  which  missed  fire,  and  he  dashed  it  to  the 
ground,  swearing  it  was  the  first  time  it  had  ever  deceived 
him.  He  then  drew  a  tomahawk  and  waited  the  approach 
of  Leiper,  who,  nothing  daunted,  unsheathed  his  long  hunt- 
ing knife  and  rushed  upon  his  foe,  grappled  with  him, 
hurled  him  to  the  ground,  and  wrested  his  only  remaining 
weapon  from  his  grasp.  The  prostrate  wretch — ex- 
hausted with  the  loss  of  blood,  conquered,  but  unsubdued 
in  spirit — now  lay  passive  at  the  feet  of  his  adversary. 
Expecting  every  moment  the  arrival  of  the  rest  of  his  pur- 
suers, he  inquired  if  Stegal  was  of  the  party,  and  being 
answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  exclaimed,  "  Then  I  am  a 
dead  man." 

"That  would  make  no  difference,"  replied  Leiper,  calm- 
ly 5  "  you  must  die  at  any  rate.  I  do  not  wish  to  kill  you 
myself,  but  if  no  body  else  will  do  it,  I  must."  Leiper  was 
a  humane  man,  and  not  quickly  excited,  but  a  thorough 
solder  when  roused.  Without  insulting  the  criminal,  he 
questioned  him  as  to  the  motives  of  his  late  atrocities. 
The  murderer  attempted  not  to  palliate  or  deny  them,  and 
confessed  that  he  had  been  actuated  by  no  inducement  but 
a  settled  hatred  of  his  species,  whom  he  had  sworn  to  de- 
stroy without  distinction,  in  retaliation  for  some  fancied 
injury.  He  expressed  no  regret  for  any  of  his  bloody 
deeds,  except  that  which  he  confessed  he  had  perpetrated 
upon  one  of  his  own  children.  "  It  cried,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  killed  it :  I  had  always  told  the  women,  I  would  have  no 
crying  about  me."  He  acknowledged  that  he  had  amassed 


TUB     MUSEUM.  239 

large  sums  of  money,  and  described  the  places  of  conceal- 
ment ;  but  as  none  was  ever  discovered,  it  is  presumed  he 
did  not  declare  the  truth.  Leiper  had  fired  several  times 
at  Harpe  during  the  chase,  and  wounded  him  ;  and  when 
the  latter  was  asked  why,  when  he  found  Leiper  pursuing 
him  alone,  he  did  not  dismount  and  take  to  a  tree,  from 
behind  which  he  could  have  shot  him  as  he  approached, 
he  replied,  he  had  supposed  there  was  not  a  horse  in  the 
country  equal  to  the  one  which  he  rode,  and  that  he  was 
confident  of  making  his  escape.  He  thought  also  that  the 
pursuit  would  be  less  eager,  so  long  as  he  abstained  from 
shedding  the  blood  of  any  of  his  pursuers.  On  the  arrival 
of  the  rest  of  the  party,  the  wretch  was  despatched,  and 
he  died  as  he  had  lived,  in  remorseless  guilt.  It  is  said, 
however,  that  he  was  about  to  make  some  disclosure,  and 
had  commenced  in  a  tone  of  more  sincerity  than  he  had 
before  evinced,  when  Stegal  advanced  and  severed  his 
head  from  his  body.  This  bloody  trophy  they  carried  to 
the  nearest  magistrate,  a  Mr.  Newman,  before  whom  it 
was  proved  to  be  the  head  of  Micajah  Harpe  ;  they  then 
placed  it  in  the  fork  of  a  tree,  where  it  long  remained  a 
revolting  object  of  horror.  The  spot,  which  is  near  the 
Highland  Lick,  in  Union  (then  Henderson,)  county,  is  still 
called  Harpe's  Head,  and  a  public  road  which  passes  it  is 
called  the  Harpe's  Head  road. 

The  other  Harpe  made  his  way  to  the  neighborhood  of 
Natchez,  where  he  joined  a  gang  of  robbers,  headed  by  a 
man  named  Meason,  whose  villanies  were  so  notorious 
that  a  reward  was  offered  for  his  head.  At  that  period, 
vast  regions  along  the  shores  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi 
were  still  unsettled,  through  which  boats  navigating  those 
rivers  must  necessarily  pass ;  and  the  traders  who,  after 
selling  their  cargoes  at  New  Orleans,  attempted  to  return 
by  land,  had  to  cross  immense  wildernesses,  totally  desti- 
tute of  inhabitants.  Meason,  who  was  a  man  rather  above 
the  ordinary  stamp,  infested  these  deserts,  seldom  com- 
mitting murder,  but  robbing  all  who  fell  in  his  way.  Some- 
times he  plundered  the  descending  boats  ;  but  more  fre- 
quently he  allowed  these  to  pass,  preferring  to  rob  their 
owners  of  money  as  they  returned  ;  pleasantly  observing, 
that  "those  people  were  taking  produce  to  market  for 


236  THE    MUSEUM. 

him."  Harpe  took  an  opportunity,  when  the  rest  of  his 
companions  were  absent,  to  slay  Meason,  and  putting  his 
head  in  a  bag,  carried  it  to  Natchez,  and  claimed  the  re- 
ward. The  claim  was  admitted  ;  the  head  of  Meason  was 
recognized,  but  so  also  was  the  face  of  Harpe,  who  was 
arrested,  condemned  and  executed. 

In  collecting  oral  testimony  of  events  long  past,  a  con- 
siderable variety  will  often  be  found  in  the  statements  of 
the  persons  conversant  with  the  circumstances.  In  this 
case  I  have  found  none,  except  as  to  the  fact  of  the  two 
Harpes  having  exchanged  horses.  A  day  or  two  before 
the  fatal  catastrophe  which  ended  their  career  in  Ken- 
tucky, they  had  murdered  a  gentleman  named  Love,  and 
had  taken  his  horse,  a  remarkably  fine  animal,  which  big 
Harpe  undoubtedly  rode  when  he  was  overtaken.  It  is 
said  that  little  Harpe  escaped  on  foot,  and  not  on  his  bro- 
ther's horse.  Many  of  these  facts  were  disclosed  by  the 
latter,  while  under  sentence  of  death. 

After  Harpe's  death,  the  women  came  in  and  claimed 
protection.  Two  of  them  were  the  wives  of  the  larger 
Harpe,  the  other,  of  his  brother.  The  latter  was  a  decent 
female,  of  delicate,  prepossessing  appearance,  who  stated 
that  she  had  married  her  husband  without  any  knowledge 
of  his  real  character,  shortly  before  they  set  out  for  the 
west ;  that  she  was  so  much  shocked  at  the  first  murder 
they  committed,  that  she  attempted  to  escape  from  them, 
but  was  prevented  ;  and  that  she  had  since  made  similar 
attempts.  She  immediately  wrote  to  her  father  in  Vir- 
ginia, who  came  for  her,  and  took  her  home.  The  other 
women  were  in  no  way  remarkable.  They  remained  in 
Muhlenburgh  county. 

These  horrid  events  will  sound  like  fiction  to  your  ears, 
when  told  as  having  happened  in  any  part  of  the  United 
States,  so  foreign  are  they  from  the  generosity  of  the  Ame- 
rican character,  the  happy  security  of  our  institutions,  and 
the  moral  habits  of  our  people.  But  it  is  to  be  recollect- 
ed, that  they  happened  twenty-seven  years  ago,  in  frontier 
settlements,  far  distant  from  the  civilized  parts  of  our 
country.  The  principal  scene  of  Harpe's  atrocities,  and 
of  his  death,  was  in  that  part  of  Kentucky  which  lies  south 
of  Green  river,  a  vast  wilderness,  then  known  by  the  gen 


THE     MUSEUM.  237 

eral  name  of  the  Green  River  Country,  and  containing  a 
few  small  and  thinly  scattered  settlements — the  more  dense 
population  of  that  State  being  at  that  time  confined  to  its 
northern  and  eastern  parts.  The  Indians  still  possessed 
the  country  to  the  south  and  west.  That  enormities  should 
sometimes  have  been  practised  at  these  distant  spots,  can- 
not be  matter  of  surprise  ;  the  only  wonder  is,  that  they 
were  so  few.  The  first  settlers  were  a  hardy  and  an  hon- 
est people  ;  but  they  were  too  few  in  number,  and  too 
widely  spread,  to  be  able  to  create  or  enforce  wholesome 
civil  restraints.  Desperadoes,  flying  from  justice,  or  seek- 
ing a  secure  theatre  for  the  perpetration  of  crime,  might 
frequently  escape  discovery,  and  as  often  elude,  or  openly 
defy,  the  arm  of  justice. 


SEBASTIAN,    KINO    OF    PORTUGAL. 

SEBASTIAN,  king  of  Portugal,  was  born  in  the  year  1554, 
sometime  after  the  demise  of  his  father,  brother  to  the 
reigning  king;  and  was  carefully  educated  by  his  mother, 
who  was  daughter  to  the  celebrated  Emperor,  Charles  V. 
In  1557,  he  succeeded  his  uncle,  John  III.  In  1574,  he 
conceived  a  design  of  making  war  on  the  Moors,  and  hav- 
ing made  great  preparations  for  putting  his  design  into  exe- 
cution, on  the  9th  of  July,  1578,  he  landed  at  Tangier, 
with  a  vast  army ;  on  the  4th  of  August,  the  same  year, 
he  fought  the  unfortunate  battle  of  Alcagar,  in  which  the 
Moors  were  victorious,  although  they  lost  their  king,  who 
died  of  a  fever,  of  which  he  had  long  been  sick  in  his 
litter. 

After  the  battle,  the  Portuguese  missing  their  king,  sent 
to  those  who  were  taken  prisoners,  who  sought  carefully 
for  his  body,  which,  as  many  supposed,  was  found.  It  had 
several  large  wounds,  and  by  reason  of  the  excessive  heat 
of  the  climate,  was  already  in  a  state  of  corruption.  How- 
ever, it  was  laid  in  a  tent,  and  the  nobility  went  to  see  it, 
but  received  no  kind  of  satisfaction  that  it  was  the  body 
of  their  king ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  generally  thought 
that  it  was  not  Notwithstanding  which,  King  Philip  of 


238  THE    MUSEUM. 

Spain,  having  demanded  it,  and,  as  some  report,  having 
given  a  vast  sum  for  it.  at  length  it  was  sent  to  him,  and 
he  caused  it  to  be  interred  with  all  the  royal  honors,  at 
Belem,  which  stands  a  mile  from  Lisbon,  and  which  is  the 
usual  burying-place  of  the  Portuguese  kings. 

It  is  certain  that  the  Portuguese  nation,  in  general,  did 
never  credit  the  story  of  his  death  ;  but  were  so  firmly 
persuaded  he  was  alive,  that  they  readily  countenanced 
two  impostors,  who  were  hardy  enough  to  assume  his 
name.  The  first  of  these  was  the  son  of  a  tile  maker,  who 
was  put  upon  it  by  a  priest,  who  gave  himself  out  to  be 
the  bishop  of  Garda ;  and  who  took  a  note  of  their  names 
who  bestowed  their  benefactions  upon  his  disciple,  in  order 
to  their  being  repaid  when  he  should  be  restored.  They 
were  quickly  apprehended,  the  priest  hanged,  and  the 
pretended  king  sent  to  the  gallies.  This  happened  in  the 
year  1585. 

The  same  year,  Matthew  Alvarez,  a  native  of  the  island 
of  Tercera,  and  the  son  of  a  stone-cutter,  was  persuaded 
to  give  himself  out  for  King  Sabastian.  This  man  was  a 
hermit,  who  lived  in  solitude,  a  harmless,  inoffensive  life. 
Many  of  whom  he  begged,  believed  they  saw  in  his  coun- 
tenance the  features  of  Don  Sebastian  ;  they  told  him  so, 
but  he  very  honestly  answered,  that  he  was  no  king,  but  a 
poor  hermit.  By  degrees,  however,  ambition  got  the  bet- 
ter of  his  reason  and  his  virtue  ;  he  no  longer  answered  as 
he  was  wont,  but  on  the  contrary,  gave  all  who  interrogated 
him  cause  to  apprehend  that  he  was  really  the  king.  By 
degrees,  he  permitted  them  to  pay  him  royal  honors,  suf- 
fered his  hand  to  be  kissed,  and  dined  in  public  ;  nay,  he 
went  so  far,  at  last,  as  to  write  to  the  Cardinal  Archduke 
Albert,  commanding  him  to  quit  his  palace,  for  that  he  in- 
tended to  resume  the  government.  Upon  this,  a  body  of 
troops  was  sent  against  him  and  his  adherents,  by  whom 
they  were  routed,  and  himself  taken  prisoner.  His  death 
quickly  followed,  accompanied  by  extraordinary  marks  of 
severity.  He  had  his  right  hand  cut  off,  after  which  he 
was  strangled,  and  his  body  quartered.  By  this  means 
the  Spanish  government  reckoned  that  a  stop  would  be 
put  to  the  hopes  of  pretenders,  and  to  the  credulous  folly 
of  the  Portuguese. 


THE     MUSEUM.  239 

In  the  year  1598,  notwithstanding  these  severities,  there 
went  a  report  that  the  true  Don  Sebastian  had  been  seen 
in  Italy.  Upon  this,  one  Manuel  Antonez,  who  had  served 
the  Cardinal  Henry,  who  succeeded  Don  Sebastian,  de- 
clared publicly  in  Portugal,  that  Sebastian  was  not  killed 
in  the  battle  of  Alcagar,  but  returned  with  him  into  Por- 
tugal ;  and  that  the  king  put  himself  into  a  religious  house 
in  Algrave,  there  to  do  penance.  In  vindication  of  this 
account,  he  produced  an  act,  drawn  up  in  form,  under 
the  hand  and  seal  of  the  father,  guardian  of  that  religious 
house.  This  affair  making  a  great  noise,  Manuel  Antonez 
was  directed  to  apply  himself  to  the  court  of  Spain,  which 
order  he  obeyed  ;  and  having  produced  his  paper  to  King 
Philip,  was  seized,  committed  to  prison,  and  never  heard 
of  more. 

This  new  Sebastian  appeared  first  at  Padua,  where 
many  pitied  and  relieved  him,  upon  which  directions  were 
sent  to  Padua  from  Venice,  to  oblige  the  person  who  called 
himself  king  of  Portugal,  to  retire  from  thence  in  three 
days,  and  in  the  space  of  a  week  to  quit  the  dominions  of 
Venice.  He  was  sick  when  the  order  was  notified  to  him, 
but  as  soon  as  he  recovered  he  went  to  Venice,  in  order 
to  give  an  account  of  himself  to  the  seigniory.  The 
ambassador  of  Spain  instantly  applied  himself  to  that 
senate,  demanding  that  this  impostor  should  be  apprehend- 
ed, and  charging  him  with  many  enormous  crimes.  He 
was  accordingly,  in  the  month  of  November,  thrown  into 
a  dungeon,  and  commissioners  appointed  to  hear  what  the 
Spanish  ambassador  could  prove  against  him,  which  came 
at  last  to  nothing  at  all. 

He  was  eight  and  twenty  times  examined  :  at  first  he 
readily  answered  all  the  questions  that  were  asked  him  con- 
cerning the  embassies  sent  to  him  while  he  was  king  of 
Portugal,  the  measures  he  had  taken,  the  letters  he  had 
written,  and  the  ministers  he  had  made  use  of.  But  at  last 
he  refused  to  answer  any  questions,  addressing  himself  in 
these  words ;  "  my  lords,  I  am  Sebastian,  king  of  Portugal, 
I  desire  you  will  suffer  me  to  be  seen  by  my  subjects : 
many  of  them  have  known,  and  must  remember  me  ;  many 
of  them  have  known  and  conversed  with  me.  If , any  proof 
can  be  offered  that  I  am  an  impostor,  I  am  content  to  die; 


240  THE    MUSEUM. 

but  would  you  put  me  to  death  merely  for  having  preferred 
you  to  the  rest  of  the  European  powers,  in  seeking  refuge 
in  your  dominions  ?" 

Dr.  Sampajo,  and  other  Portuguese  then  residing  at 
Venice,  solicited  earnestly  for  his  being  set  at  liberty ;  the 
commissioners  informed  them,  that  without  a  certificate  of 
indubitable  authenticity,  as  to  the  marks  whereby  Don 
Sebastian  might  be  known,  they  could  not  set  this  man  at 
liberty :  because  they  knew  their  hatred  to  the  Castillians 
to  be  such,  that  if  need  were,  they  would  acknowledge  a 
negro  to  be  Don  Sebastian.  Dr.  Sampajo  upon  this  went 
privately  to  Lisbon  ;  from  whence  he  brought  with  him  to 
Venice  a  canon,  and  an  instrument  signed  by  an  apostolic 
notary,  containing  an  exact  account  of  the  marks  of  Don 
Sebastian's  body;  whereupon  he  renewed  his  request, 
which  the  seigniory  evaded,  alleging  that  they  could  not 
enter  into  such  an  inquiry  at  the  request  of  a  private  per- 
son, but  that  they  were  ready  to  do  it  if  any  of  the  poten- 
tates of  Europe  interested  themselves  in  the  affair.  The 
Portuguese,  upon  this,  applied  themselves  to  foreign  courts 
with  unwearied  diligence. 

At  last,  on  the  1 1th  of  December,  the  same  year,  Don 
Christopher  the  younger,  son  of  Don  Antonio,  once  king 
of  Portugal,  attended  by  Sebastian  Figuera,  arrived  at 
Venice,  with  letters  from  the  States  General  and  Prince 
Maurice.  A  day  of  audience  was  now  appointed,  on  which 
the  person  calling  himself  Don  Sebastian  was  seated  on 
the  right  hand  of  the  prince,  and  permitted  to  deliver  his 
pretensions  in  writing  to  the  duke  and  two  hundred  sena- 
tors, who,  when  they  spoke  to  him,  gave  him  the  title  of 
Illustrissimo.  This  was  on  the  Tuesday  ;  on  Wednesday, 
Thursday,  and  Friday,  the  council  was  continued.  At  ten 
in  the  evening  of  the  last  mentioned  day,  they  made  their 
report  to  the  senate,  who  immediately  summoned  Don  Se- 
bastian before  them,  to  whom  they  gave  the  same  injunc- 
tion that  he  had  before  received  at  Padua.  While  this 
order,  which  was  in  writing,  was  read,  the  senators  con- 
tinued standing,  while  he  who  called  himself  Sebastian  sat, 
and  remained  covered. 

When  he  came  out,  he  would  not  suffer  any  to  accom« 
pany  him  to  the  house  where  he  had  first  lodged,  where  he 


THE    MUSEUM.  24J 

found  Roderigo  Marquez  and  Sebastian  Figuera,  who  at 
first  sight  of  him  were  extremely  surprised.  They  said  he 
was  much  changed,  but  they  were  positive  he  was  the 
king,  of  which  they  advised  his  cousin  Don  Christopher, 
who  thereupon  ordered  lie  should  be  conducted  to  the 
lodgings  of  Don  John  de  Castro,  which  were  in  a  more 
private  part  of  the  city.  There  he  showed  himself 
to  all  the  Portuguese,  observing  to  them  that  his  person 
was  very  remarkable,  his  whole  right  side  being  larger 
than  his  left ;  he  measured  his  arms,  legs  and  thighs  ;  then 
kneeling  down,  he  discovered  that  his  right  shoulder  was 
higher  than  his  left  by  three  inches  ;  he  showed  them  the 
scar  of  his  right  eye-brow,  and  suffered  all,  who  desired  to 
feel  a  remarkable  cleft  in  his  skull.  He  then  showed  them 
that  he  wanted  a  tooth  on  the  right  side  of  his  lower  jaw, 
which  he  said  had  been  drawn  by  Sebastian  Nero,  his  bar- 
ber :  all  the  rest  of  his  teeth  being  firm  and  strong.  They 
would  have  had  him  eat,  but  it  being  Friday,  he  refused. 
As  those  who  were  about  him  came  from  diferent  coun- 
tries, some  were  habited  after  the  Dutch,  some  the  Italian, 
others  the  French  fashion ;  one,  whose  name  was  Francis 
Antonio,  was  in  the  garb  of  a  pilgrim  with  a  staff  in  his 
hand.  Sebastian,  standing  by  the  fire,  after  continuing  a 
long  time  silent,  at  last  said  with  a  smile,  tantotrage ! 
What  odd  fashions  !  Upon  which  some  of  the  Portuguese 
nobility,  who  had  been  hitherto  silent,  cried  out,  that  from 
the  manner  of  pronouncing  these  words,  they  knew  him  to 
be  the  king.  The  second  night,  notwithstanding  that  all 
the  passes  into  the  country  of  the  Grisons  were  secured, 
he  went  over  into  the  terra  firma,  in  the  habit  of  a  monk ;  but 
when  he  quitted  Padua,  resumed  his  cloak  and  sword,  took 
the  road  to  Florence,  and  was  there  arrested  by  order  of 
the  grand  duke. 

The  king  of  Spain  immediately  demanded  that  he 
should  be  put  into  his  hands,  which  the  grand  duke  refused 
to  do,  justifying  himself  by  the  example  of  the  state  of 
Venice.  However,  the  duke  of  Savoy  preparing  to  invade 
his  dominions,  he  caused  Sebastian  to  be  sent  to  Orbitello 
and  put  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards.  The  writers  in 
Italy  were  much  divided  on  this  event :  some  commend- 
ing the  grand  duke  for  discouraging  an  impostor,  others 

43 


242  THE     MUSEUM. 

alleging  that  it  was  a  direct  breach  of  faith.  He  who 
called  himself  king  of  Portugal,  understood  it  in  this  light. 
He  reproached  the  grand  duke's  officers  in  the  severest 
terms,  adding,  when  he  was  delivered  to  the  Spaniards, 
that  he  did  not  doubt  but  God  would  punish  the  house  of 
Medicis  for  their  perfidy  toward  him. 

At  Naples,  he  was  imprisoned  in  the  Castle  de  Ovo,  and, 
as  the  Portuguese  affirm,  was  locked  up  in  a  chamber  for 
three  days  without  having  any  sustenance  given  him,  or  so 
much  as  seeing  the  face  of  any  person,  only  a  rope,  and  a 
knife  of  half  a  foot  long,  were  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 
Sebastian  did  not  make  use  of  either  of  these  remedies, 
but  bore  with  patience  and  resignation  all  the  injuries  and 
hardships  that  were  put  upon  him.  The  fourth  day  the 
auditor-general,  accompanied  with  two  secretaries,  made 
him  a  visit.  The  magistrate  told  the  prisoner  in  a  few 
words,  that,  provided  he  laid  aside  the  chimerical  style  he 
had  hitherto  assumed,  he  might  have  meat,  drink,  a  con- 
venient lodging,  and  other  accommodations.  "  I  cannot  do 
that,"  said  he,  "  I  am  Don  Sebastian,  king  of  Portugal, 
whose  sins  have  drawn  upon  him  these  severe  chastise- 
ments :  I  am  content  to  die  after  what  manner  you  please, 
but  to  deny  the  truth,  that  I  can  never  do."  After  this 
he  was  allowed  bread  and  water  for  some  time,  and  then 
five  crowns  a  month,  and  a  servant  to  attend  him. 

The  Conde  de  Lemos,  at  that  time  viceroy  of  Naples, 
being  desirous  to  see  him,  he  was  conducted  to  the  palace, 
where,  entering  the  hall  and  perceiving  the  count  bare- 
headed, which  happened  accidentally  on  account  of  the 
heat  of  the  weather,  he  said,  in  a  grave  and  majestic  tone, 
"  Conde  de  Lemos,  be  covered."  The  spectators  being 
astonished,  the  count  asked  him,  with  some  disdain,  by 
what  authority  he  bid  him  be  covered  ?  "  By  an  authority," 
replied  the  prisoner,  "  to  which  my  birth  entitles  me."  But 
why  sir,  do  you  pretend  not  to  know  me  ?  I  remember  you 
very  well ;  my  uncle  Philip  sent  you  twice  to  me  in  Por- 
tugal, where  you  had  such  and  such  private  conferences 
with  me.  The  count,  touched  with  this  discourse,  con- 
tinued some  time  silent ;  at  last,  he  said  to  the  keeper  who 
was  with  him,  "  Take  him  away,  he  is  an  impostor."  "  No, 
sir,"  returned  he,  "  1  am  the  unfortunate  king  of  Portugal, 


THE    MUSEUM.  243 

and  you  know  it  well.  A  man  of  your  quality  ought,  on 
all  occasions,  either  to  be  silent  or  to  speak  the  truth." 
While  the  Conde  de  Lemos  lived,  except  his  imprisonment, 
Sebastian  endured  no  great  hardships ;  he  was  allowed  to 
live  as  he  pleased,  and  was  permitted  to  go  to  chapel 
whenever  he  desired  it.  He  fasted  regularly  Fridays  and 
Saturdays,  and  during  the  whole  Lent,  contented  himself 
with  herbs  and  roots,  received  the  sacrament,  and  went  to 
confession  constantly. 

The  Conde  de  Lemos  was  succeeded  in  his  government 
by  his  son,  who  treated  Sebastian  with  great  rigour.  The 
bishop  of  Reggio  was  sent  to  exercise  Jbim,  (the  Spanish 
ministry  on  account  of  his  answers,  affecting  to  believe  he 
was  a  magician.)  This  prelate  having  performed  his  office 
with  great  solemnity,  the  prisoner  drew  a  little  crucifix 
out  of  his  bosom :  "  Behold,"  said  he,  "  the  badge  of  my 
profession,  the  standard  of  that  captain,  whom,  to  the  last 
drop  of  my  blood,  I  shall  serve."  On  the  first  day  of  April, 
1602,  he  was  carried  from  the  castle  mounted  upon  an 
ass,  three  trumpets  sounding  before  him,  and  a  herald 
proclaiming  these  words  : — "  His  most  catholic  majesty 
hath  commanded  this  man  to  be  led  through  the  streets  of 
Naples  with  all  the  marks  of  ignominy,  and  then  to  serve 
on  board  the  gallies  for  life,  for  giving  himself  out  to  be 
Don  Sebastian,  king  of  Portugal,  whereas,  he  is  a  Cala- 
brian."  When  the  herald  spoke  of  calling  himself  king,  he 
cried  out,  "  and  so  I  am  :"  when  he  came  to  the  word  Cala- 
brian,  the  prisoner  cried  out  again,  "  that  is  false." 

After  this,  he  was  put  on  board  the  gallies,  and,  for  a 
day  or  two,  chained  to  the  oar ;  but  as  soon  as  they  were 
out  of  the  port,  they  restored  him  his  own  clothes  and 
treated  him  like  a  gentleman.  In  the  month  of  August, 
1602,  the  gallies  came  into  port  St.  Lucar,  where  the  duke 
and  duchess  of  Medina  Sidonia  desired  to  see  the  prisoner. 
When  they  had  conversed  together  some  time,  Sebastian 
asked  the  duke  if  he  had  still  the  sword  which  he  gave 
him  ?  "  I  have,"  replied  the  duke,  cautiously,  "  a  sword 
given  me  by  Don  Sebastian  when  he  went  to  Africa,  which 
I  keep  among  other  swords  presented  to  me."  "  Let  them 
be  brought,"  said  the  prisoner,  "  I  shall  know  the  sword  I 
gave  you."  A  servant  being  sent  upon  this  occasion,  re- 


244  THE    MUSEUM. 

turned  presently  with  a  dozen.  Sebastian  having  exam- 
ined them  one  by  one,  turned  gravely  to  the  duke,  and  said, 
•'  Sir,  my  sword  is  not  here."  The  servant  being  remand- 
ed to  bring  the  rest,  as  soon  as  he  came  with  them,  Sebas- 
tian catched  one  out  of  his  hand,  crying  out,  "  this,  sir,  is 
the  sword  I  gave  you."  When  he  came  to  be  put  on 
board  the  gallies,  he  said  to  the  duchess,  "  Madam,  I  have 
nothing  to  give  you  now ;  when  I  went  to  Africa  I  gave 
you  a  ring,  if  you  send  for  it  I  will  tell  you  a  secret."  The 
duchess  said  it  was  true,  the  king  of  Portugal  had  given 
her  a  ring,  and  ordered  it  to  be  sent  for  ;  when  Sebastian 
saw  it  he  said,  "  press  it  with  your  fingers,  madam,  the 
jewel  may  then  be  taken  out,  and  beneath  it  you  will  find 
my  cypher  ;"  which  proved  to  be  true.  The  duke  and 
duchess  shed  tears  at  his  departure.  When  he  took  his 
leave,  he  said  to  the  duchess,  "  Madam,  the  negro  slave 
who  attends  you,  formerly  washed  my  linen." 

Sebastian  was  after  this  imprisoned,  yet  treated  with 
lenity  till  he  died,  which  happened  four  years  afterward, 
always  persisting  that  he  was  in  truth  what  he  gave  him- 
self out  to  be. 


GENERAL    STEWART  S    WOUND. 

GENERAL  STEWART,  whose  sister  married  Thomas,  Earl 
of  Dundonald,  and  who  was  commander-in-chief  at  Ma- 
dras, was  afflicted  by  a  wound  in  one  of  his  legs,  which 
mortified  ;  and,  no  signs  of  suppuration  appearing,  his  sur- 
geon told  him  there  was,  in  his  opinion,  no  hope  of  his 
recovery,  unless  he  would  submit  to  amputation.  The 
general  heard  his  doom  with  the  utmost  composure,  and 
immediately  set  about  arranging  his  affairs,  previous  to 
the  approaching  moment,  when  it  might  be  no  longer  in 
his  power — having  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  die,  rather 
than  suffer  the  operation.  It  was  in  vain  his  most  intimate 
friends  remonstrated  ;  in  vain  they  represented  that  he 
would  still  be  as  competent  as  ever,  mounted  upon  an 
elephant,  to  discharge  all  his  military  duties ;  and  that 
neither  from  his  habit  of  body,  or  his  years,  was  there  any 


THE     MTISETTM.  245 

cause  of  apprehension  as  to  the  probable  result.  He  lis- 
tened to  them  with  great  good  humor,  and  then  asked  his 
surgeon,  admitting  he  would  not  submit,  how  long  he 
thought  he  might  survive  ?  It  is  to  be  supposed,  in  that 
climate  the  progress  of  mortification  is  very  rapid ;  and 
the  surgeon  told  him,  unless  a  suppuration  took  place,  of 
which  he  saw  no  sign,  he  thought  it  doubtful  if  he  could 
survive  twenty-four  hours.  The  veteran  soldier  set  about 
arranging  his  affairs — made  his  will — dispatched  a  messen- 
ger to  his  nephew,  who  was  absent ;  and,  communicating 
in  what  state  he  left  his  affairs,  one  by  one  he  took  leave 
of  his  fiiends,  much  in  the  same  way  as  if  he  had  been 
going  on  a  distant  journey,  or  into  battle.  He  settled  his 
accounts,  and  took  leave  of  his  weeping  domestics ;  his 
own  mind  being  the  least  affected  of  any  one  about  him. 
He  took  a  last  adieu,  as  he  thought,  of  the  setting  sun,  fully 
expecting  to  be  a  corpse  ere  it  arose.  He  then  told  his 
favorite  valet,  who  was  almost  broken  hearted,  to  ice  a 
couple  of  bottles  of  his  favorite  claret,  and  to  set  them  on 
a  side-table  near  his  couch  ;  and,  not  choosing  to  have  his 
last  agonies  witnessed,  or  perhaps  wishing  to  spare  the 
feelings  of  his  servant,  he  told  him  not,  on  any  account, 
unless  called  for,  to  enter  his  chamber  till  a  given  hour  the 
next  day.  Thus  left  to  his  own  meditations,  the  general 
calmly  smoked  his  pipe,  in  the  Asiatic  style,  the  last,  he 
supposed,  he  should  ever  enjoy ;  and  relishing  his  chateau 
margeaux,  perhaps  from  the  same  anticipation,  he  finished 
his  second  bottle,  and  peaceably  laid  himself  down  to 
sleep,  expecting,  ere  he  awoke  again,  the  agonies  of  death 
might  be  upon  him. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  no  signal  having  been  given,  with 
a  palpitating  heart  the  valet  approached  his  beloved  mas- 
ter's bed,  fully  expecting  to  find  him  a  corpse  ;  when,  to 
his  astonishment  and  delight,  he  saw  he  was  alive,  and  ap- 
parently enjoying  a  refreshing  sleep ;  which  he  did  not 
interrupt,  but  immediately  informed  the  surgeon,  who,  upon 
looking  at  his  patient  and  examining  his  pulse,  was  con- 
vinced that  a  favorable  crisis  had  arrived  ;  and  when  the 
general  awoke,  and  the  dressings  were  removed,  it  was 
found  that  a  complete  suppuration  had  taken  place,  and 

43* 


240  THE    MUSEUM. 

that  nothing  remained  but  a  clean,  healthy  wound,  which 
was  rapidly  cured. 


COMMENCEMENT    OF   THE    LIBERTY    OF    SWITZERLAND. 

THE  present  inhabitants  of  Switzerland  are  descended 
from  the  ancient  Helvetii,  who  were  subdued  by  Julius 
Cesar.  They  continued  long  under  little  better  than  the 
nominal  dominion  of  the  houses  of  Burgundy  and  Austria, 
till  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  when  the 
severity  with  which  they  were  treated  by  the  Austrian 
governors  excited  a  general  insurrection,  and  gave  rise  to 
what  is  now  called,  from  the  ancient  name  of  the  country, 
the  Helvetic  confederacy.  This  memorable  event  is  thus 
related : 

Albert,  Emperor  of  Germany,  having  in  vain  attempted 
to  compel  all  the  brave  Svvitzers  to  submit  to  the  yoke  of 
the  house  of  Austria,  these  people  were  so  cruelly  treated 
that  they  entered  into  a  confederacy,  in  order  to  support 
their  ancient  rights  and  privileges.  Gesler,  the  governor 
of  Uri,  in  order  to  discover  the  authors  of  the  conspiracy, 
ordered  that  his  hat  should  be  fixed  on  the  top  of  a  pole, 
in  the  market-place  of  Altorf,  the  capitol  of  that  province ; 
and  all  who  passed  by  it,  were  obliged,  on  pain  of  death, 
to  pay  obeisance  to  it,  as  if  to  the  governor  himself.  Wil- 
liam Tell,  a  man  of  influence  in  his  country,  disdaining  this 
mark  of  vassalage  and  slavery,  refused  to  obey  the  tyrant's 
orders  :  upon  which  the  latter  caused  him  to  be  arrested, 
and  condemned  him  to  shoot  an  apple  from  the  head  of  his 
only  son,  who  was  about  five  years  old.  Tell  answered, 
that  he  would  rather  die  himself,  than  risk  the  safety  of  his 
son.  The  tyrant  declared  he  would  hang  them  both,  if 
he  did  not  instantly  obey.  Thus  compelled,  Tell  reluc- 
tantly took  his  bow,  and  from  the  head  of  his  son,  who  was 
tied  to  a  tree,  he  shot  away  the  apple  to  the  admiration  of  all 
the  spectators.  The  governor  perceiving  he  had  a  second 
arrow,  demanded  what  he  had  intended  to  do  with  it ; 
assuring  him,  at  the  same  time,  of  his  full  pardon  if  he 
would  disclose  the  truth.  "  To  pierce  thy  heart,"  replied 


THE    MUSKUM.  247 

Tell,  "  if  I  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  kill  my  son." 
Gesler,  basely  violating  his  promise,  loaded  him  with  chains, 
and  made  him  embark  with  him  on  board  a  vessel  that  was 
to  cross  lake  Uri,  in  order  to  confine  him  in  a  dungeon  in 
one  of  his  castles  ;  but  a  tempest  arising,  the  governor  found 
that  Tell's  assistance  was  necessary,  to  save  himself  and 
his  crew.  He  therefore  ordered  his  fetters  to  be  taken 
off;  and  Tell,  having  steered  the  vessel  with  safety  towards 
a  landing-place,  with  which  he  was  acquainted,  threw  him- 
self into  the  water,  with  his  bow,  and  fled  to  the  mountains. 
He  there  waited  in  a  place  that  Gesler  was  obliged  to 
pass,  and  shot  him  in  the  heart  with  his  remaining  arrow. 
The  brave  Switzer  then  hastened  to  announce  the  deatli 
of  the  tyrant,  and  their  consequent  deliverance  to  the  con- 
federatee ;  and  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  a  multitude  of 
his  gallant  countrymen,  he  took  all  the  fortresses,  and  made 
the  governors  prisoners. 

Such  is  the  history  of  the  commencement  of  Swiss  liber- 
ty, which  some  of  the  greatest  painters  have  selected  as  a 
favorite  subject.  It  must  not  be  concealed,  however,  that 
some  historians  call  in  question  the  circumstance  of  the 
apple  ;  while  others,  on  the  contrary,  have  implicitly  re- 
ceived it.  The  former  assert,  that  a  similar  event  had 
occurred  long  before  to  Tocho,  an  excellent  marksman  in 
the  army  of  a  Gothic  monarch,  named  Harold  ;  but  this  is 
no  proof  that  the  same  event  might  not  happen  afterwards 
to  a  very  different  person  ;  nor  is  there  any  reason  for 
supposing,  that  the  Switzers  would  have  recourse  to  fable 
in  order  to  account  for  a  revolution,  that  was  not  only  very 
signal  in  itself,  but  that  happened  not  much  more  than  five 
centuries  ago. 

But,  not  to  investigate  this  subject  further,  all  historians 
are  agreed,  that  William  Tell  was  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished authors  of  this  glorious  revolution.  Gesler  was  un- 
questionably killed  by  him  with  an  arrow.  He  entered 
into  an  association  with  Werner  Stauffacher,  Walter  Furst, 
and  Arnold  de  Melctal,  whose  father  had  been  deprived  of 
his  sight  by  the  inhuman  monster.  The  plan  of  this  revo- 
lution was  formed  on  the  14th  of  November,  1307.  The 
Emperor  Albert,  who  would  have  treated  these  illustrious 
men  as  rebels,  was  prevented  by  death.  The  Archduke 


248  THE     MUSEUM. 

Leopold  marched  into  their  country  with  an  army  of 
twenty  thousand  men.  With  a  force  not  exceeding  five 
hundred,  the  brave  Switzers  waited  for  the  main  body  of 
the  Austrian  army  in  the  defiles  of  Morgate.  More  fortu- 
nate than  Leonidas  and  his  Lacedemonians,  they  put  the 
invaders  to  flight,  by  rolling  down  great  stones  from  the 
tops  of  the  mountains.  Other  bodies  of  the  Austrian  army 
were  defeated  at  the  same  time,  by  a  number  of  Switzers 
equally  small.  This  victory  having  been  gained  in  the 
canton  of  Schweitz,  the  two  other  cantons  gave  this  name 
to  the  confederacy,  into  which,  by  degrees,  other  cantons 
entered.  Berne,  which  is  to  Switzerland  what  Amster- 
dam is  to  Holland,  did  not  accede  to  this  alliance  till  the 
year  1352  ;  and  it  was  not  till  1513,  that  the  small  district 
of  Appenzel  united  to  the  other  cantons,  and  completed 
the  number  of  thirteen.  No  people  ever  fought  longer  nor 
better  for  their  liberty.  They  gained  more  than  sixty  bat- 
tles against  the  Austrians ;  but,  it  is  feared,  have  lately  suf- 
fered in  their  independence.  A  country  which  is  not  too 
extensive,  nor  too  opulent,  and  where  the  laws  breathe  a 
spirit  of  mildness,  ought,  necessarily,  to  be  free.  This  re- 
volution in  the  government  produced  another  in  the  aspect 
of  the  country.  A  barren  soil,  neglected  under  the  domi- 
nion of  tyrants,  became,  at  length,  the  scene  of  cultivation. 
Vineyards  were  planted  on  rocky  mountains ;  and  savage 
tracts,  cleared  and  tilled  by  the  hands  of  freemen,  became 
the  fertile  abodes  of  peace  and  plenty.  The  thirteen 
cantons,  as  they  now  stand  in  point  of  precedency,  are, 
1st,  Zurich — 2d,  Berne — 3d,  Lucerne — 4th,  Uri — 5th, 
Schweitz — 6th,  Underwalden — 7th,  Zug — 8th,  Glacis — 
9th,  Basil— 10th,  Fribourg— llth,  Soloure — 12th,  Schaff- 
hausen — 13th,  Appenzel. 


THE    JUVENILE    HERO. 

THE  heroic  conduct,  filial  attachment,  and  lamentable 
death  of  the  young  Casabianca,  at  the  famous  battle  of 
Aboukir,  will  be  read  with  feelings  of  the  liveliest  emotion, 
by  the  latest  posterity.  His  father  commanded  the  Orient, 


THE   JUVENILE    HERO. 

8e*  p»g«  249,  rol.  II. 


THE    MUSEUM.  24 

the  flag-ship  of  Admiral  Bruyes,  and  being  mortally  wound- 
ed at  the  moment  the  Orient  caught  fire,  was  carried  into 
the  gun-room. 

The  boy  whose  age  did  not  exceed  thirteen,  displayed 
the  utmost  activity  during  the  engagement.  Stationed 
among  the  guns,  he  encouraged  the  gunners  and  sailors, 
and  when  the  firing  happened  to  be  impeded  in  the  heat 
of  action,  through  excess  of  zeal  and  agitation,  he  restored 
order  and  tranquillity  by  a  coolness  which  was  quite  as- 
tonishing for  his  age ;  he  made  the  gunners  and  sailors 
sensible  of  their  inadvertences,  and  took  care  that  each 
gun  was  served  with  cartridges  suited  to  its  calibre. 

He  knew  not  that  his  father  had  been  mortally  wound- 
ed ;  and  when  the  fire  broke  out  on  board  the  Orient,  and 
the  guns  were  abandoned,  this  courageous  child  remained 
by  himself,  and  called  loudly  on  his  father,  asking  him  if 
he  could  quit  his  post  like  the  rest,  without  dishonor.  The 
fire  was  making  dreadful  ravages,  yet  he  still  waited  for  his 
father's  answer,  but  in  vain.  At  length  an  old  sailor  in- 
formed him  of  the  misfortune  of  Casabianca,  his  father, 
and  told  him  that  he  was  ordered  to  save  his  son's  life  by 
surrendering.  The  noble-minded  boy  refused,  and  imme- 
diately ran  to  the  gun-room.  When  he  perceived  his  fa- 
ther, he  threw  himself  upon  him,  held  him  in  his  close 
embrace,  and  declared  that  he  would  never  quit  him  !  in 
vain  his  father  entreated  and  threatened  him :  in  vain  the 
old  sailor,  who  felt  an  attachment  to  his  captain,  wished 
to  render  him  this  last  service.  "  I  MUST  DIE — I  WILL  DIE 
WITH  MY  FATHER  !"  answered  the  generous  child.  "  There 
is  but  a  moment  remaining"  observed  the  sailor ;  " I  shall 
have  great  difficulty  in  saving  myself — adieu  /" 

The  flame  reaching  the  powder  magazine,  the  Orient 
blew  up  with  a  dreadful  explosion,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  The  whole  horizon  seemed  on  fire,  the  earth 
shook,  and  the  smoke  which  proceeded  from  the  vessel 
ascended  heavily  in  a  mass,  like  an  immense  dark  balloon. 
The  atmosphere  then  brightened  up,  and  exhibited  the 
terrific  objects  of  all  descriptions  which  were  precipitated 
on  the  scene  of  battle. 

Thus  perished  the  young  and  the  gallant  Casabianca, 
who  in  vain  covered  with  his  body  the  mutilated  remains 


250  THE    MUSEUM. 

of  his  unfortunate  father.     On  landing  at  Alexandria,  the 
above  particulars  were  circumstantially  related  to  General 
Kleber  and  Louis  Bonaparte,  afterwards  king  of  Holland. 
Memoirs  of  Louis  Bonaparte. 


THE    LOVER  S    HEART 


ABOUT  a  hundred  years  ago,  there  was  in  France  one 
Captain  Coucy,  a  gallant  gentleman  of  ancient  extraction, 
and  governor  of  Coucy  castle,  which  is  yet  standing.  He 
fell  in  love  with  a  young  woman,  and  courted  her  for  his 
wife.  There  was  reciprocal  love  between  them  ;  but  her 
parents  by  way  of  prevention,  shuffled  up  a  forced  match 
between  her  and  one  M.  Fayel,  who  was  an  heir  to  a  great 
estate.  Hereupon  Capt.  Coucy  quitted  France  in  disgust, 
and  went  to  the  wars  in  Hungary,  against  the  Turks, 
where  he  received  a  mortal  wound  near  Buda.  Being 
carried  to  his  lodgings,  he  languished  four  days :  but  a  lit- 
tle before  his  death  he  spoke  to  an  ancient  servant,  of 
whose  fidelity  and  truth  he  had  ample  experience,  and 
told  him  he  had  a  great  business  to  trust  him  with,  which 
he  conjured  him  to  perform ;  which  was,  that,  after  his 
death,  he  should  cause  his  body  to  be  opened,  take  out  his 
heart,  put  it  into  an  earthen  pot,  and  bake  it  to  powder  ; 
then  put  the  powder  into  a  handsome  box,  with  the  brace- 
let of  hair  he  had  long  worn  about  his  left  wrist,  which 
was  a  lock  of  Mademoiselle  Fayel's  hair,  and  put  it  among 
the  powder,  together  with  a  little  note  he  had  written  to 
her  with  his  own  blood ;  and,  after  he  had  given  him  the 
rights  of  burial,  to  make  all  the  speed  he  could  to  France, 
and  deliver  the  box  to  Mademoiselle  Fayel. 

The  old  servant  did  as  his  master  commanded  him,  and 
so  went  to  France ;  and,  coming  one  day  to  Monsieur 
Fayel's  house,  he  suddenly  met  him  with  one  of  his  ser- 
vants, who,  knowing  him  to  be  Captain  Coucy's  servant, 
examined  him  ;  and,  finding  him  timorous  and  to  falter  in 
speech,  he  searched  him,  and  found  the  said  box  in  his 
pocket,  with  the  note,  which  expressed  what  was  in  it; 
then  he  dismissed  the  bearer  with  menaces  that  he  should 


THE     MUSEUM.  251 

come  thither  no  more.  Monsieur  Faye)  going  in  sent  for 
his  cook,  and,  delivering  him  the  powder  charged  him  to 
make  a  well-relished  dish  of  it,  without  loosing  a  jot,  for  it 
was  a  very  costly  thing,  and  commanded  him  to  bring  it 
in  himself  after  the  last  course  of  supper.  The  cook  bring- 
ing in  his  dish  accordingly,  Monsieur  Fayel  commanded  all 
to  leave  the  room,  and  began  a  serious  discourse  with  his 
wife  :  "  That  ever  since  he  had  married  her,  he  observed 
she  was  always  melancholy,  and  he  feared  she  was  inclin- 
ing to  a  consumption,  therefore  he  had  provided  a  very 
precious  cordial,  which  he  was  well  aware  would  cure  her ;" 
and  for  that  reason  obliged  her  to  eat  up  the  whole  dish  : 
she  afterwards  importuning  him  to  know  what  it  was,  he 
told  her,  at  last,  "  she  had  eaten  De  Coucy's  heart,"  and 
drew  the  box  out  of  his  pocket,  and  showed  her  the  note 
and  the  bracelet.  In  a  sudden  exultation  of  joy,  she,  with 
a  deep-fetched  sigh,  said,  "  This  is  an  excellent  cordial  in- 
deed," and  then  licked  the  dish,  saying,  "  It  is  so  precious, 
that  it  is  a  pity  ever  to  eat  any  thing  after  it."  Whereupon 
she  went  to  bed,  and  in  the  morning  was  found  dead. 


SINGULAR   ADVENTURE    OF   JOHN    COLTER. 

MR.  BRADBURY,  in  his  travels  in  the  interior  of  North 
America,  relates  the  following  singular  adventure  of  a  man 
named  John  Colter. 

Colter  came  to  St.  Louis  in  May,  1810,  in  a  small  ca- 
noe, from  the  head  waters  of  the  Missouri,  a  distance  of 
three  thousand  miles,  which  he  traversed  in  thirty  days. 
I  saw  him  on  his  arrival,  and  received  from  him  an  ac- 
count of  his  adventures,  after  he  had  separated  from  Lewis 
and  Clark's  party ;  one  of  these,  for  its  singularity,  I  shall 
relate.  On  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  the  head  waters  of 
the  Missouri,  Colter,  observing  an  appearance  of  abund- 
ance of  beaver  being  there,  got  permission  to  remain  and 
hunt  for  some  time,  which  he  did  in  company  with  a  man 
of  the  name  of  Dixon,  who  had  traversed  the  immense 
tract  of  country  from  St.  Louis  to  the  head  waters  of  the 
Missouri  alone.  Soon  after,  he  separated  from  Dixon,  and 


252  THE     MUSEUM. 

trapped  in  company  with  a  hunter  named  Potts;  and, 
aware  of  the  hostility  of  the  Blackfeet  Indians,  one  of 
whom  had  been  killed  by  Lewis,  they  set  their  traps  at 
night  and  took  them  up  early  in  the  morning,  remaining 
concealed  during  the  day.  They  were  examining  their 
traps  early  one  morning,  in  a  creek  about  six  miles  from 
that  branch  of  the  Missouri  called  Jefferson's  Fork,  and 
were  ascending  in  a  canoe,  when  they  heard  a  great 
noise  resembling  the  trampling  of  animals ;  but  they  could 
not  ascertain  the  fact,  as  the  high  perpendicular  banks  on 
each  side  of  the  river,  impeded  their  view.  Colter  imme- 
diately pronounced  it  to  be  occasioned  by  Indians,  and 
advised  instant  retreat,  but  was  accused  of  cowardice  by 
Potts,  who  insisted  that  the  noise  was  caused  by  buffaloes, 
and  they  proceeded  on.  In  a  few  minutes,  their  doubts 
were  removed  by  a  party  of  Indians  making  their  appear- 
ance on  both  sides  of  the  creek,  to  the  amount  of  five  or  six 
hundred,  who  beckoned  them  to  come  ashore.  As  retreat 
was  now  impossible,  Colter  turned  the  head  of  the  canoe, 
and,  at  the  moment  of  its  touching,  an  Indian  seized  the 
rifle  belonging  to  Potts ;  but  Colter,  who  was  a  remark- 
ably strong  man,  immediately  retook  it,  and  handed  it  to 
Potts,  who  remained  in  the  canoe,  and  on  receiving  it, 
pushed  off  into  the  river.  He  had  scarcely  quitted  the 
shore,  when  an  arrow  was  shot  at  him,  and  he  cried  out, 
— "  Colter,  I  am  wounded  !"  Colter  remonstrated  with 
him  on  the  folly  of  attempting  to  escape,  and  urged  him  to 
come  ashore.  Instead  of  complying,  he  instantly  leveled 
his  rifle  at  the  Indian  and  shot  him  dead  on  the  spot.  This 
conduct,  situated  as  he  was,  may  appear  to  have  been  an 
act  of  madness,  but  it  was  doubtless  the  effect  of  sudden 
but  sound  reasoning ;  for  if  taken  alive,  he  must  have  ex- 
pected to  be  tortured  to  death,  according  to  their  custom. 
He  was  instantly  pierced  with  arrows  so  numerous,  that, 
to  use  Colter's  words,  "  he  was  made  a  riddle  of"  They 
now  seized  Colter,  stripped  him  entirely  naked,  and  began 
to  consult  on  the  manner  in  which  he  should  be  put  to 
death. 

They  were  first  inclined  to  set  him  up  as  a  mark  to  shoot 
at,  but  the  chief  interfered,  and,  seizing  him  by  the  should- 
er, asked  him  if  he  could  run  fast  ?  Colter,  who  had  been 


THE    MUSEUM.  253 

some  time  amongst  the  Kee-katso  or  Crow  Indians,  had 
in  a  considerable  degree  acquired  the  Blackfoot  language, 
and  was  also  well  acquainted  with  Indian  customs;  he 
knew  that  he  had  now  to  run  for  his  life,  with  the  dreadful 
odds  of  five  or  six  hundred  against  him,  and  those  armed 
Indians  ;  he  therefore  cunningly  replied,  that  he  was  a  bad 
runner,  although  he  was  considered  by  the  hunters  as  re- 
markably swift.  The  chief  now  commanded  the  party  to 
remain  stationary,  and  led  Colter  out  on  the  prairie  three 
or  four  hundred  yards,  and  released  him,  bidding  him  save 
himself  if  he  could.  At  this  instant  the  horrid  warhoop 
sounded  in  the  ears  of  poor  Colter,  who,  urged  with  the 
hope  of  preserving  life,  ran  with  a  speed  at  which  himself 
was  surprised.  He  proceeded  towards  the  Jefferson  Fork, 
having  to  traverse  a  plain  six  miles  in  breadth,  abounding 
with  the  prickly  pear,  on  which  he  was  every  instant  tread- 
ing with  his  naked  feet.  He  ran  nearly  half  way  across 
the  plain  before  he  ventured  to  look  over  his  shoulder, 
when  he  perceived  that  the  Indians  were  very  much  scat- 
tered, and  that  he  had  gained  ground  to  a  considerable 
distance  from  the  main  body ;  but  one  Indian,  who  carried 
a  spear,  was  much  before  all  the  rest,  and  not  more  than 
one  hundred  yards  from  him.  A  faint  gleam  of  hope  now 
cheered  the  heart  of  Colter ;  he  derived  confidence  from 
the  belief,  that  escape  was  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  ; 
but  that  confidence  was  nearly  fatal  to  hirn,  for  he  exerted 
himself  to  such  a  degree,  that  the  blood  gushed  from  his 
nostrils,  and  soon  almost  covered  the  fore  part  of  his  body. 
He  had  now  arrived  within  a  mile  of  the  river,  when  he 
distinctly  heard  the  appaling  sound  of  footsteps  behind 
him,  and  every  instant  expected  to  feel  the  spear  of  his 
pursuer.  Again  he  turned  his  head,  and  saw  the  savage 
not  twenty  yards  from  him.  Determined  if  possible  to 
avoid  the  unexpected  blow,  he  suddenly  stopped,  turned 
round,  and  spread  out  his  arms.  The  Indian,  surprised  by 
the  suddenness  of  the  action,  and  perhaps  by  the  bloody 
appearance  of  Colter,  also  attempted  to  stop — but  exhaust- 
ed with  running,  he  fell  whilst  endeavoring  to  throw  his 
spear,  which  struck  in  the  ground  and  broke.  Colter  in- 
stantly took  up  the  pointed  part,  with  which  he  pinned  him 
to  the  earth,  and  then  continued  his  flight.  The  foremost 

44 


254  THE    MTTSEUM. 

of  the  Indians,  on  arriving  at  the  place,  stopped  till  others 
came  up  to  join  them,  when  they  set  up  a  hideous  yell. 
Every  moment  of  this  time  was  improved  by  Colter,  who, 
although  fainting  and  exhausted,  succeeded  in  gaining  the 
skirting  of  the  cotton  tree  wood  on  the  borders  of  the  Fork, 
through  which  he  ran  and  plunged  into  the  river.  Fortu- 
nately for  him,  a  little  below  this  place  was  an  island, 
against  the  upper  part  of  which  a  raft  of  drift  timber  had 
lodged.  He  dived  under  the  raft,  and,  after  several  efforts, 
got  his  head  above  water  amongst  the  trunks  of  trees,  cov- 
ered over  with  smaller  wood  to  the  depth  of  several  feet. 
Scarcely  had  he  secured  himself,  when  the  Indians  arrived 
on  the  river  screeching  and  yelling,  as  Colter  expressed 
it,  " like  so  many  devils"  They  were  frequently  on  the 
raft  during  the  day,  and  were  seen  through  the  chinks  by 
Colter,  who  was  congratulating  himself  on  his  escape,  until 
the  idea  arose  that  they  might  set  the  raft  on  fire.  In  hor- 
rible suspense  he  remained  until  the  night,  when,  hearing 
no  more  of  the  Indians,  he  dived  under  the  raft  and  swam 
silently  down  the  river  to  a  considerable  distance,  where 
he  landed  and  travelled  all  night.  Although  happy  in 
escaping  from  the  Indians,  his  situation  was  still  dreadful : 
he  was  completely  naked,  under  a  burning  sun — the  soles 
of  his  feet  were  entirely  filled  with  the  thorns  of  the  prickly 
pear — he  was  hungry,  and  had  no  means  of  killing  game, 
although  he  saw  abundance  around  him — and  was  at  least 
seven  days'  journey  from  Lisa's  Fort,  on  the  Bighorn  branch 
of  the  Roche  Jaune  river.  These  were  circumstances  un- 
der which  almost  any  man  but  an  American  hunter  would 
have  despaired.  He  arrived  at  the  fort  in  seven  days, 
having  subsisted  on  a  root  much  esteemed  by  the  Indians 
of  the  Missouri,  now  known  by  naturalists  as  psoralea 
esculenta. 


ICE    PALACE    OF    ST.    PETERSBURG!!. 

AMONG  the  magnificent  wonders  of  this  splendid  capitol, 
the  annals  of  the  reign  of  Catharine  II.  make  mention  of 
one  ephemeral  palace,  which,  like  that  of  Pandaemonium, 


THE    MTTSETTM.  255 

" Out  of  the  earth  a  fabric  huge, 

Rose  like  an  exhalation ;" 

and  like  an  exhalation  vanished,  not  leaving  a  wreck  be- 
hind. From  a  true  and  particular  account  of  this  ice  pal- 
ace, drawn  up  by  Kraft,  an  imperial  academician,  and 
published  at  St.  Petersburgh  the  year  after  its  erection,  it 
appears,  that  seven  years  before,  an  ice  castle  had  been 
built  upon  the  river  Neva ;  but  the  ice  bent  under  the 
weight  of  the  edifice,  and  of  the  soldiers  who  garrisoned  it. 
To  avoid  a  similar  defect  in  the  foundation,  it  was  resolved, 
on  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of  Prince  Galitzin,  in  1740, 
to  erect  a  palace  of  ice  on  terra  firma  ;  and  a  site  was  chosen 
between  the  imperial  winter  palace  and  the  admiralty,  one 
of  the  lords  of  the  bed-chamber  being  appointed  to  super- 
intend the  works.  The  palace  was  constructed  of  blocks 
of  ice,  from  two  to  three  feet  thick,  cut  out  of  the  winter 
covering  of  the  Neva  ;  these  being  properly  adjusted,  water 
was  poured  between  them,  which  acted  as  a  cement,  con- 
solidating the  whole  into  one  immense  mass  of  ice.  The 
length  of  the  edifice  was  fifty-six  feet,  its  breadth  seventy 
and  a  half,  and  its  height  twenty-one.  "  It  was  construct- 
ed according  to  the  strictest  rules  of  art ;  and  was  adorned 
with  a  portico,  columns,  and  statues.  It  consisted  of  a 
single  story,  the  front  of  which  was  provided  with  a  door, 
and  fourteen  windows  ;  the  frames  of  the  latter,  as  well  as 
the  panes,  being  all  formed  of  ice.  The  sides  of  the  doors 
and  of  the  windows  were  painted  in  imitation  of  green 
marble.  On  each  side  of  the  door  was  a  dolphin,  from 
the  mouths  of  which,  by  means  of  naphtha,  volumes  of 
flames  were  emitted  in  the  evening.  Next  to  them  were 
two  mortars,  equal  to  eighty-pounders,  from  which  many 
bombs  were  thrown,  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  powder  be- 
ing used  for  each  charge.  On  each  side  of  the  mortars 
stood  three  cannons,  equal  to  three-pounders,  mounted 
upon  carriages,  and  with  wheels,  which  were  often  used. 
In  the  presence  of  a  number  of  persons  attached  to  the 
court,  a  bullet  was  driven  through  a  board  two  inches  thick, 
at  the  distance  of  sixty  paces,  by  one  of  these  cannon,  a 
quarter  of  a  pound  of  powder  being  also  used  for  a  charge. 
The  interior  of  the  edifice  had  no  ceiling,  and  consisted  of 
a  lobby  and  two  large  apartments,  one  on  each  side,  which 


256  THE     MUSEUM. 

were  well  furnished,  and  painted  in  the  most  elegant  man 
ner,  though  formed  merely  of  ice.  Tables,  chairs,  statues, 
looking-glasses,  candlesticks,  watches,  and  other  orna 
ments,  besides  tea-dishes,  tumblers,  wine-glasses,  and  even 
pjates  with  provisions,  were  seen  in  one  apartment,  also 
formed  of  ice,  and  painted  of  their  natural  colors ;  while 
in  the  other,  were  to  be  seen  a  state  bed,  with  curtains, 
bed,  pillows,  and  bed-clothes,  two  pair  of  slippers,  and  two 
night  caps  of  the  same  cold  material.  Behind  the  cannon, 
the  mortars,  and  the  dolphins,  stretched  a  low  balustrade. 
On  each  side  of  the  building  was  a  low  entrance.  Here 
were  pots  with  flowers  and  orange-trees,  partly  formed  of 
ice,  and  partly  natural,  on  which  birds  sat.  Beyond  these 
were  erected  two  icy  pyramids.  On  the  right  of  one  of 
them  stood  an  elephant,  which  was  hollow,  and  so  con- 
trived as  to  throw  out  burning  naphtha ;  while  a  person 
within  it,  by  means  of  a  tube,  imitated  the  natural  cries  of 
the  animal.  On  the  left  of  the  other  pyramid  was  seen  the 
never  failing  concomitant  of  all  princely  dwellings  in  Rus- 
sia, a  banya,  or  bath,  apparently  formed  of  balks,  which 
is  said  to  have  been  sometimes  heated,  and  even  to  have 
been  appropriated  to  use. 

"  The  appearance  of  the  ice  palace,  it  is  said,  was  re- 
markably splendid  when  lighted  up  in  the  evening  with 
numerous  candles.  Amusing  transparancies  were  usually 
suspended  in  the  windows  to  increase  the  effect ;  and  the 
emission  of  flames  by  the  dolphins,  and  the  elephant,  all 
tended  to  excite  greater  surprise,  while  the  people  beheld 
the  crystalline  mass." 

Thus,  there  wanted  not,  to  carry  on  the  parallel  be- 
tween this  palace  and  the  magical  edifice  which  Milton 
describes, 

" many  a  row 

Of  starry  lamps  and  blazing  cressets,  fed 
With  naphtha  and  asphaltus,  yielding  light 
As  from  a*  sky.     The  hasty  multitude 
Admiring  entered  ;  and  the  work  some  praise, 
And  some  the  architect." 

Crowds  of  visitors  were  continually  seen  around  this  fan- 
tastic and  unique  construction,  which  remained  entire  from 
the  beginning  of  January  almost  to  the  middle  of  March. 
The  glassy  fabric  then  began  to  melt,  and  was  soon  after- 


THE    MUSEUM.  257 

>*-ards  broken  into  pieces,  and  the  ruins  were  conveyed  to 
the  imperial  ice-cellar.*  On  the  wisdom  displayed  in  the 
construction  of  this  costly  emblem  of  mundane  glory,  the 
reader  may  make  his  own  comment. 


STEPHEN    MEKUIL    CLARK. 

THIS  person  was  a  youth  who  never  attained  the  age  of 
eighteen  years.  He  was  the  son  of  respectable  parents 
in  the  town  of  Newburyport,  where  he  resided  all  or  the 
better  part  of  his  life.  He  was  a  boy  of  profligate  habits 
and  bad  character.  No  incident  of  his  short  and  evil  life 
possesses  the  smallest  interest,  excepting  the  crime  for 
which  he  suffered  capitally.  If,  however,  his  story  should 
hinder  one  individual  from  following  the  courses  which  con- 
firmed his  natural  hardness  of  heart,  we  shall  have  ren- 
dered a  service  to  the  community. 

On  the  morning  of  the  17th  of  August,  1820,  Mr.  Fitz, 
a  gentleman  who  dwelt  in  Temple  street,  Newburyport, 
perceived  that  a  barn  belonging  to  Mrs.  Phrebe  Cross, 
about  seventy  yards  from  his  own  house,  was  on  fire. 
This  was  before  daylight.  He  went  to  the  house  of  Mr. 
Frothingham,  opposite  to  the  burning  building,  and  awoke 
the  family.  Scarcely  had  they  escaped  when  their  house 
caught  fire,  and  within  an  hour  was  burnt  to  the  ground. 
Two  more  dwelling  houses  and  five  or  six  other  buildings 
were  also  consumed. 

Many  circumstances  concurred  to  prove  this  conflagra- 
tion to  be  the  work  of  an  incendiary,  and  suspicion  was 
strong  against  Stephen  M.  Clark.  To  shield  him  from 
the  consequences,  his  father  sent  him  to  Belfast,  in  the 
state  of  Maine  ;  but  before  he  went  he  told  one  Hannah 
Downes,  that  he  would  return  and  set  fire  to  the  town  in 
four  different  places.  This  girl  was  an  inmate  of  a  brothel 
kept  by  a  Mrs.  Chase.  As  soon  as  the  youth  was  found  to  be 


*  Kraft's  work  contains  two  views  of  the  interior,  as  well  as  one  of  the 
front  of  the  palace.  A  copy  of  the  latter  is  given  by  Dr.  Lyall,  in  his  Tra. 
veli  in  Russia,  (Vol.  ii.  D.  390,)  from  which  we  have  taken  this  account. 

44* 


258  THE     MUSEUM. 

missing,  the  public  indignation  was  directed  against  these 
women,  and  they  were  sent  to  prison  as  lewd  and  lascivious 
characters.  Hannah  Downes  was  discharged  a  week  after, 
but  Mrs.  Chase  remained  a  month,  after  which  she  be- 
came the  servant  of  Mr.  Wade,  the  keeper  of  the  prison, 
in  which  capacity  she  behaved  with  strict  propriety. 

Young  Clark  returned  to  Essex  county  in  September. 
On  the  22d  of  that  month,  as  he  was  passing  by  Mr. 
Wade's  house,  on  his  way  to  Newburyport,  Mrs.  Chase 
saw  and  recognized  him.  He  was  asked  to  go  in  and  get 
something  to  eat,  a  request  with  which  he  very  unwillingly 
complied,  showing  much  uneasiness.  Mr.  Wade  went  out 
for  a  while,  and  on  his  return  met  Clark,  who  turned  out 
of  the  way  to  avoid  him.  The  jailor  asked  Clark  to  go 
with  him,  and  the  youth  with  some  reluctance  consented. 
Mr.  Wade  took  him  in  his  chase  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Woart, 
a  magistrate  of  Newburyport.  On  the  way,  the  youth 
told  Mr.  Wade  that  he  came  from  Belfast  by  the  way  of 
Boston. 

Mr.  Woart  sent  for  the  selectmen  of  the  town,  and  in 
the  mean  while  placed  a  keeper  at  the  door  to  prevent 
improper  persons  from  entering,  for  the  news  of  Clark's 
apprehension  had  drawn  a  concourse  of  people  about  the 
office.  After  a  short  examination  he  was  fully  committed. 

On  the  15th  of  February,  1821,  Stephen  Merril  Clark 
stood  before  the  bar  of  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court,  at 
Salem,  to  answer  to  the  charge  of  ARSON. 

The  principal  witness  against  him,  without  whose  evi- 
dence he  could  not  have  been  convicted,  were  his  former 
associates,  Hannah  Downes  and  Mrs.  Sally  Chase.  The 
former  testified  that  she  and  Mrs.  Chase  had  a  conversa- 
tion with  the  prisoner  near  the  ruins,  early  in  the  morning 
after  the  fire,  whence  he  walked  home  with  them.  On 
the  way  he  observed,  that  "  the  fire  blazed  d — d  well,  and 
the  fellow  who  made  it  was  a  d — d  good  fellow — and  if 
he  knew  him  he  would  treat  him."  To  these  profane 
remarks  she  replied,  that  she  believed  he  knew  as  much 
about  the  matter  as  any  one.  He  nodded  assent,  and 
took  leave  of  her. 

She  met  him  again  at  sunrise,  and  heard  all  the  particu- 
lars of  his  guilt  from  his  own  mouth.  He  went,  he  said, 


THE    MUSEUM.  259 

to  his  father's  cellar  and  took  a  candle,  but  breaking  it 
accidentally,  thought  it  would  not  serve  his  purpose,  and 
therefore  took  another.  Then  taking  matches  and  a  lighted 
segar,  he  went  to  the  barn  and  climbed  into  the  upper  loft. 
There  he  stuck  the  candle  upright  in  a  whisp  of  hay,  put 
it  under  the  stairs  in  a  position  to  communicate  with  cer- 
tain combustibles,  and  lighted  it  by  means  of  his  segar  and 
matches.  This  took  place  between  seven  and  eight,  or 
eight  and  nine  o'clock.  After  this  he  returned  home  and 
went  to  bed  to  his  father,  that  he  might  not  be  suspected. 
At  twelve  o'clock  he  awoke,  and  hearing  no  alarm,  thought 
the  candle  had  gone  out,  and  slept  again.  When  he  awoke 
again  at  two,  the  fire  had  broken  out,  and  he  went  to  see 
it,  telling  his  father,  as  he  started,  that  he  believed  some 
person  intended  to  burn  the  town.  By  this  he  referred  to 
recent  fires  in  the  place,  particularly  one  that  took  place 
about  twenty-four  hours  previous,  and  which  he  had  oc- 
casioned. 

As  we  have  before  stated,  suspicion  fell  upon  Clark, 
Hannah  Downes,  and  Mrs.  Chase,  and  they  were  impris- 
oned for  a  while.  The  women  occupied  an  apartment 
adjoining  Clark's.  The  prisoner  now  fearing  that  they 
would  betray  him,  wrote  Mrs.  Chase  a  letter  entreating 
her  to  keep  silence,  and  sent  it  by  William  Stanwood, 
her  cousin,  to  whom  he  delivered  it  through  a  window. 
Stanwood  confirmed  their  evidence  on  this  point.  In  the 
course  of  the  night  Clark  knocked  several  times  on  the 
partition  between  them,  and  reiterated  his  request. 

After  his  liberation,  he  told  Hannah  Downes  he  meant 
to  go  eastward,  and  stay  in  Maine  till  suspicion  and  alarm 
subsided,  and  then  return  to  Boston  by  water.  He  would 
next  come  to  Newburyport  by  night  and  set  fire  to  it  in 
four  different  places,  so  that  while  the  people  were  extin- 
guishing the  conflagration  in  one  place,  it  should  break  out 
in  another.  On  her  telling  him  that  he  would  be  sent  to 
the  state  prison  if  discovered,  he  replied  that  that  was  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  him,  and  if  he  staid  there  twenty 
years  he  would  be  revenged  on  the  town  of  Newburyport 
as  soon  as  he  came  out. 

On  her  cross-examination,  Hannah  Downes  farther  sta- 
ted that  the  Thursday  before  the  fire,  as  she  was  standing 


260  THE    MUSEUM. 

at  her  father's  door,  Clark  came  up  and  began  to  talk  to 
her.  He  put  something  to  her  nose  that  had  the  odor  of 
brimstone.  Being  asked  what  he  meant  to  do  with  it,  he 
replied  that  she  would  soon  know.  That  evening  a  barn 
was  burned  down.  This  was  the  substance  of  the  testi- 
mony of  Hannah  Downes. 

Mrs.  Chase  confirmed  all  these  pai'ticulars.  She  added 
that  after  the  prisoner  was  liberated  she  believed  the  town 
in  imminent  danger,  and  considered  it  her  duty  to  save  it. 
Following  the  dictates  of  this  her  judgment,  she  wrote  an 
account  of  all  she  knew  to  Mr.  Woart,  in  consequence  of 
which  Clark  was  arrested  on  his  return,  as  has  already 
been  seen.  It  appears  from  her  evidence,  that  some  of 
Clark's  relatives  had  opposed  his  intimacy  with  Hannah 
Downes,  and  that  his  motive  for  his  crime  was  to  revenge 
himself  for  this  interference.  ^q 

It  was  strongly  contended  by  the  prisoner's  counsel  that 
no  faith  should  be  given  to  the  testimony  of  such  notori- 
ously profligate  characters  as  these  women  ;  and  that  they 
were  such,  was  proved  by  abundant  evidence.  Mr.  Mo- 
ses Clark,  the  prisoner's  father,  especially,  did  much  to 
discredit  them. 

In  answer  to  this,  Mr.  Marston,  one  of  the  selectmen, 
stated,  that  when  Mr.  Clark  complained  of  his  son,  he  said 
he  feared  that  if  something  were  not  done  the  lad  would 
do  mischief.  Nay,  he  added  that  he  could  not  sleep  quietly 
for  fear  he  should  wake  and  find  the  town  burning.  In 
proof  that  Hannah  Downes  was  not  actuated  by  a  desire 
to  injure  the  prisoner,  Mr.  Woart  was  called  to  the  stand. 
He  said  that  on  being  apprised  of  Clark's  guilt  by  Mrs. 
Chase,  he  sent  for  Hannah  Downes,  and  questioned  her. 
At  first  she  strenuously  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  told  what  she  knew  with  great  reluctance  at  last. 
She  alleged  her  promise  of  secrecy  to  Clark,  as  the  reason 
of  her  unwillingness  to  confess. 

Clark's  counsel  objected  to  the  admission  of  the  testi' 
mony  of  Hannah  Downes,  touching  his  confession  to  her, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  not  proved  that  an  offence  had  beei. 
committed,  or  that  the  barn  in  question  had  not  been  set 
on  fire  by  accident.  The  objection  was  overruled  by  the 
court,  who  decided,  that  nothing  was  necessary  previous 


THE    MUSEUM.  261 

to  admitting  evidence  of  confession,  save  proof  of  the  fact, 
that  the  calamity  might  have  been  brought  to  pass  by  hu- 
man agency. 

In  defence  of  the  prisoner  it  was  urged,  that  the  town 
of  Newburyport  had  suffered  often  and  severely  by  fire, 
and  that  the  inhabitants  were  consequently  much  excited 
against  him — that  this  excitement  had  influenced  the  testi- 
mony. The  learned  counsel  insisted  strongly  on  the  infa- 
mous characters  of  the  two  principal  witnesses,  and  on  the 
threat  uttered  against  Clark  by  Hannah  Downes,  in  con- 
versation with  his  father.  Furthermore,  it  was  argued, 
that  Clark's  confessions  to  Mr.  Woart  and  others,  were 
extorted  by  illegal  duress,  restraint,  and  menace,  and  sev- 
eral witnesses  were  then  introduced  to  prove  an  alibi ;  but 
in  this  they  utterly  failed. 

After  a  deliberation  of  five  hours,  the  jury  found  the 
prisoner  guilty,  and  sentence  of  death  was  passed  on  him. 
He  was  executed  accordingly. 


TRUE  BRAVERY. 

WHEN  the  American  army  was  at  Valley  Forge,  in  the 
winter  of  1777,  a  captain  of  the  Virginia  line  refused  a 
challenge  sent  him  by  a  brother  officer,  alleging  that  his 
life  was  devoted  to  the  service  of  his  country,  and  that  he 
did  not  think  it  a  point  of  duty  to  risk  it  to  gratify  the  ca- 
price of  any  man.  This  point  of  duty  gave  occasion  to  a 
point  of  humor,  which  clearly  displayed  the  brilliant  points 
of  the  officer's  character,  and  exposed  the  weak  ones  of 
his  brother's  in  the  service  in  a  very  pointed  manner.  His 
antagonist  gave  him  the  name  of  a  coward  through  the 
whole  army ;  conscious  of  not  having  merited  the  asper- 
sion, and  discovering  the  injury  he  should  sustain  in  the 
minds  of  those  unacquainted  with  him,  he  repaired  one 
evening  to  a  general  meeting  of  the  officers  of  that  line. 

On  the  entrance  he  was  avoided  by  the  company,  and 
the  officer  who  challenged  him,  insolently  ordered  him  to 
leave  the  room,  a  request  which  was  loudly  re-echoed  from 
ail  parts.  He  refused,  and  asserted  that  he  came  there  to 


262  THE    MUSEUM. 

vindicate  his  fame  ;  and  after  mentioning  the  reasons  which 
induced  him  not  to  accept  the  challenge,  he  applied  a  large 
hand-granade  to  the  candle,  and  when  the  fuse  had  caught 
fire,  threw  in  on  the  floor,  saying,  "  Here  gentlemen,  this 
will  quickly  determine  which  of  us  all  dare  brave  danger 
most."  At  first  they  stared  upon  him  for  a  moment  in  stu- 
pid astonishment ;  but  their  eyes  soon  fell  upon  the  fuse  of 
the  grenade,  which  was  fast  burning  down ;  away  scam- 
pered colonel,  general,  ensign,  and  captain,  and  all  made 
a  rush  at  the  door — "  Devil  take  the  hindmost."  Some 
fell,  and  others  made  way  over  the  bodies  of  their  com- 
rades ;  some  succeeded  in  getting  out,  but  for  an  instant, 
there  was  a  general  heap  of  flesh  sprawling  at  the  entrance 
of  the  apartment. 

Here  was  a  colonel  jostling  with  a  subaltern,  and  there 
fat  generals  pressing  lean  lieutenants  into  the  boards,  and 
blushing  majors  and  squeaking  ensigns  wrestling  for  exit, 
the  size  of  one  and  the  feebleness  of  the  other  making  their 
chance  of  departure  pretty  equal ;  until  time,  which  does 
all  things,  at  last  cleared  the  room,  and  left  the  captain 
standing  over  the  grenade,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his 
countenance  expressing  every  kind  of  scorn  and  contempt 
for  the  scrambling  red  coats,  as  they  toiled,  and  bustled, 
and  bored  their  way  to  the  door.  After  the  explosion  had 
taken  place,  some  of  them  ventured  to  return  and  take  a 
peep  at  the  mangled  remains  of  their  comrade,  whom,  how 
ever,  to  their  great  surprise,  they  found  alive  and  unin 
jured.  When  they  were  all  gone,  the  captain  threw  him- 
self flat  on  the  floor,  as  the  only  possible  means  of  escape, 
and,  fortunately,  came  off  with  a  whole  skin,  and  a  repaired 
reputation. 


INUNDATION    OF   THE    RIVER    NEVA,    IN    RUSSIA,    IN    1824. 

THE  situation  of  St.  Petersburgh,  on  the  gulf  of  Finland 
and  the  banks  of  the  Neva,  is  very  favorable  to  commerce, 
and  advantageous  in  other  respects ;  but  these  advantages 
are  in  some  measure  counterbalanced  by  evils  arising  from 
that  very  situation.  It  is  exposed  to  dreadful  inundations, 


T  H  «     .M  V  S  E  TT  M  .  263 

occasioned  chiefly  by  a  west  or  south-west  wind,  which, 
blowing  directly  from  the  gulf,  prevents  the  exit  of  the 
Neva,  and  occasions  a  vast  accumulation  of  water.  If 
the  westerly  wind  continues  for  some  time,  the  water  rises 
ten  feet  above  its  level ;  at  five  feet,  it  overflows  only  the 
west  part  of  the  town,  in  those  places  where  there  is  no 
embankment ;  but  only  the  easternmost  parts  escape  when 
the  waters  rise  ten  feet.  These  floods  are,  in  general,  less 
alarming  and  destructive  than  formerly,  owing  principally 
to  the  gradual  raising  of  the  grounds,  by  buildings  and  other 
causes.  The  most  ancient  inundation,  of  which  there  is  any 
record,  was  before  the  city  was  built,  in  1691.  The  waters 
of  that  period  seem  to  have  risen  usually  every  five  years. 
On  the  first  of  November,  1726,  the  waters  rose  eight  feet 
two  inches ;  on  the  2d  October,  1752,  eight  feet  five 
inches.  On  September  10, 1777,  there  was  a  dreadful  in- 
undation, in  consequence  of  a  violent  storm  of  wind  from 
the  west  and  south-west.  In  several  streets,  the  torrent 
was  four  feet  and  a  half  deep,  and  so  powerful,  that  it  car- 
ried before  it  several  buildings  and  bridges ;  the  Vassili 
Ostroff,  and  the  island  of  St.  Petersburgh,  particularly  suf- 
fered. It  began  at  five  in  the  morning ;  about  seven,  the 
wind  shifting  suddenly  to  the  north-west,  the  flood  fell  as 
rapidly  as  it  had  risen.  For  a  short  time  the  river  rose 
ten  feet  above  its  ordinary  level. 

In  consequence  of  this  inundation,  precautionary  mea- 
sures have  been  taken  to  warn  the  inhabitants  of  the  ap- 
proaching evil :  the  height  of  the  water  is  regularly  marked. 
Whenever  it  rises  above  its  banks  at  the  mouth  of  the  great 
Neva,  notice  is  given  by  three  distinct  firings  of  cannon, 
repeated  at  intervals  as  the  danger  increases :  five  cannon 
are  also  fired  at  the  Admiralty  battery ;  and  from  its 
steeple  by  day,  four  white  flags  are  displayed  ;  by  night, 
four  lanterns,  the  bells  of  the  churches  tolling  at  the  same 
time. 

All  these  precautions  however,  were  inadequate  to  pre- 
serve the  city  from  a  most  dreadful  calamity,  in  Novem- 
ber, 1824.  On  the  night  of  the  10th  of  that  month,  so 
strong  a  westerly  wind  impeded  the  current  from  the  La- 
doga lake,  that  the  Neva  and  the  canals  rose  to  an  unusual 
height,  and  lamps  were  hung  out  around  the  Admiralty 


264  THE    MUSEUM. 

steeple  to  warn  people  not  to  sleep  in  their  lowest  apart- 
ments— a  signal  which  custom  has  familiarized  them  to. 
Early  on  the  next  day,  the  waters  had  so  risen,  that  the 
white  flag  was  hung  out,  and  guns  were  fired  to  admonish 
the  city  of  its  danger.  It  was  soon  too  apparent  that  these 
admonitions  were  necessary ;  the  Neva  rose  so  as  to  in- 
undate the  whole  city,  and  the  confusion  and  destruction 
became  indescribable.  Vehicles  of  all  descriptions,  says 
a  private  letter,  were  now  seen  hurrying  homewards,  or 
to  the  bridges,  or  to  some  rising  ground,  with  the  water 
over  the  wheels  ;  people  were  also  seen  wading  through 
it  up  to  their  waists ;  in  a  short  time,  only  a  courier  here 
and  there  appeared  on  horseback,  their  horses  scarcely 
able  to  keep  their  heads  above  the  water. 

At  one  o'clock  on  the  19th,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  on 
the  Grand  Place  and  in  the  streets,  but  wooden  barks, 
empty  boats,  sentry-boxes,  timber,  furniture  washed  from 
the  houses,  bread,  and  various  kinds  of  provisions,  all  float- 
ing in  confused  masses  on  the  boisterous  surface  ;  houses 
were  seen  floating  up  the  river,  most  of  the  inhabitants  of 
which  had  perished  !  even  the  church-yards  experienced 
an  additional  desolation.  In  the  Smolensko  quarter  of 
the  town,  coffins  were  washed  out  of  their  graves,  and 
the  dead  bodies  were  cast  up  from  their  quiet  habitations. 
Numbers  had  struggled  up  pillars,  to  the  tops  of  trees, 
and  on  the  highest  eminences,  and  were  gradually  saved 
from  the  fate  of  their  companions  by  a  few  boats,  which 
literally  plied  above  the  roofs  of  many  of  the  houses ; 
an  eye-witness,  says,  "On  Saturday,  the  20th,  at  day- 
break, I  went  out  to  view  the  effects  of  this  catastrophe. 
I  found  the  quay  of  the  Neva  blocked  up  with  timber, 
broken  barges,  galliots,  and  vessels  of  various  descrip- 
tions, which  had  carried  with  them  the  pillars  and  lamp- 
posts of  the  houses,  and  had  broken  the  windows,  and 
otherwise  damaged  the  edifices.  The  large  blocks  of 
granite,  of  which  the  parapet  is  composed,  were  thrown 
over.  The  St.  Isaac's,  the  Toochkoff,  and  the  summer- 
garden  bridges  were  broken  from  their  anchors,  dispersed 
an'd  destroyed.  Many  of  the  streets  were  so  choked  up 
with  their  timber,  as  to  be  almost  impassable.  In  the 
Vassili  Ostroff  quarter,  where  most  of  the  houses  are  of 


THE    MUSEUM.  283 

wood,  the  destruction  was  immense ;  whole  dwellings 
were  hurled  from  their  foundations,  some  of  which  were 
found  at  a  considerable  distance  from  where  they  stood, 
with  the  dead  bodies  of  their  unfortunate  inhabitants  with- 
in ;  others  were  broken  in  pieces  on  the  spot,  and  some 
were  so  totally  destroyed,  that  not  a  fragment  remained." 
Wooden  barracks  with  many  of  their  inmates  were  totally 
overwhelmed  :  a  regiment  of  carabineers  who  climbed  up 
one  of  the  roofs,  all  perished  !  eight  thousand  dead  bodies 
had  been  already  found,  and  multitudes  were  carried  by 
the  retreating  waters  down  the  Gulf  of  Finland  ;  many, 
also,  were  supposed  to  remain  buried  in  the  ruins  of  their 
habitations.  Of  course,  many  instances  of  individual 
affliction  during  the  rapidity  of  the  inundation  must  have 
occurred  :  the  following  seems  particularly  affecting.  A 
lady  and  a  child  in  a  carriage  were  in  a  dangerous  situa- 
tion, when  a  cossack  riding  by,  observed  her  distress,  and 
stopped  ;  she  entreated  him  to  save  the  child  ;  he  took  it 
from  the  carriage  window,  but  in  a  few  minutes  his  horse 
slipped  and  they  both  perished  ;  soon  afterwards,  the  lady, 
with  her  servants,  horses  and  baggage,  were  overwhelmed 
in  the  waters.  When  we  state  the  loss  of  human  beings 
to  have  been  upwards  of  8000,  it  may  seem  almost  unfeel- 
ing to  think  of  estimating  the  destruction  of  property ;  but 
many  who  escaped  the  flood,  were  doomed  in  the  wreck 
of  their  all  to  combat  the  more  tedious  mortality  of  famine. 
All  the  provisions  in  the  city  had  been  more  or  less 
damaged,  and  the  frost  had  set  in  so  severely,  that  any 
supply  from  the  sea  was  considered  almost  hopeless.  The 
exchange  had  been  fitted  to  receive  4000  persons ;  and 
such  public  buildings  as  escaped,  were  opened  for  the  re- 
ception of  the  homeless.  Whole  villages  in  the  neighbor- 
hood had  almost  entirely  disappeared  ;  of  Ernilianowka, 
not  a  trace  remained  !  the  imperial  establishments  at 
Cronstadt  suffered  greatly,  and  the  fleet  sustained  irrepar- 
able damage :  a  ship  of  100  guns  was  left  in  the  middle 
of  one  of  the  principal  streets  !  in  the  imperial  iron  manu- 
factory at  Catharinoff,  200  workmen  perished  ;  and  out  of 
18  barracks,  no  less  than  15  were  washed  away.  Such 
are  a  few,  and  but  a  few  of  the  results  of  this  dreadful 
calamity.  Alexander  was  a  helpless  witness  of  the  scene 

45 


266  THE    MtTSEUM. 

from  his  palace  windows ;  what  a  lesson  for  human  am- 
bition !  a  few  years  before,  an  emperor,  as  powerful  and  as 
seemingly  secure,  found  the  grave  of  his  fortune  in  the 
ruins  of  the  other  capital.  To  do  him  justice,  he  seems  to 
have  been  deeply  afflicted  at  the  spectacle  ;  but  indeed, 
what  indifferent  sojourner  would  not !  a  million  of  roubles 
were  subscribed  from  the  imperial  purse,  and  a  committee 
appointed  for  their  immediate  distribution ;  the  reigning 
family  personally  visited  and  succored  the  miserable  sur- 
vivors ;  and  all  that  human  charity  could  do,  under  such 
a  visitation,  was  put  in  active  progress.  The  loss  of  com- 
mercial property  was  immense  :  in  sugar  alone,  it  is  said, 
that  ten  millions  eight  hundred  thousand  pounds  were 
damaged,  and  nearly  half  the  quantity  complexly  melted." 


ESCAPE    OF   A    FARMER    FROM    DROWNING. 

THE  hazardous  occupation  of  a  fowler,  on  the  coast  be- 
tween Hampshire  and  the  Isle  of  Wight,  once  led  him  into 
a  case  of  great  distress :  this  being  in  the  day-time,  it  shows 
still  greater  danger  of  such  expeditions  in  the  night. 
Mounted  on  his  mud-pattens,  (flat  pieces  of  board  tied  on 
his  feet,)  he  was  traversing  one  of  these  midland  plains  in 
quest  of  ducks ;  and  being  only  intent  on  his  game,  he  sud- 
denly found  that  the  waters,  which  had  been  brought  for- 
ward with  uncommon  rapidity,  by  some  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  tide  and  current,  had  made  an  alarming  progress 
around  him.  Incumbered  as  his  feet  were,  he  could  not 
exert  much  expedition :  but  to  whatever  part  he  ran,  he 
found  himself  completely  invested  by  the  tide.  In  this  un- 
comfortable situation,  a  thought  struck  him,  as  the  only 
hope  of  safety.  He  retired  to  that  part  of  the  plain,  which 
seemed  the  highest,  from  its  being  yet  uncovered  by  water, 
and,  striking  the  barrel  of  his  gun  (which,  for  the  purpose 
of  shooting  wild  fowl,  was  very  long)  deep  into  the  mud, 
he  resolved  to  hold  fast  by  it,  as  a  support,  as  well  as  a 
security  against  the  waves,  and  to  wait  the  ebbing  of  the 
tide.  A  common  tide,  he  had  reason  to  believe,  would 
not,  in  that  place,  have  reached  above  bin  middle ;  but  as 


THE    MUSEUM.  267 

this  was  a  spring-tide,  and  brought  forward  with  a  strong 
westerly  wind,  he  durst  hardly  expect  so  favorable  a  con- 
clusion ;  in  the  midst  of  this  reasoning  on  the  subject, 
the  water  making  a  rapid  advance,  had  now  reached 
him.  It  rippled  over  his  feet,  it  gained  his  knees,  his  waist, 
button  after  button,  swallowed  up,  till  at  length  it  ad- 
vanced over  his  very  shoulders  !  With  a  palpitating  heart, 
he  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  Still,  however,  he  held  fast 
by  his  anchor.  His  eye  was  eagerly  in  search  of  some 
boat,  which  might  accidentally  take  its  course  that  way  : 
but  none  appeared.  A  solitary  head  floating  on  the  water, 
and  sometimes  covered  by  a  wave,  was  no  object  to  be 
descried  from  the  shore,  at  a  distance  of  half  a  league ; 
nor  could  he  exert  any  sounds  of  distress  that  could  be 
heard  so  far.  While  he  was  thus  making  up  his  mind,  as 
the  exigence  would  allow,  to  the  terrors  of  a  certain  de- 
struction, his  attention  was  called  to  a  new  object.  He 
thought  he  saw  the  uppermost  button  of  his  coat  begin  to 
appear.  No  mariner  floating  on  a  wreck,  could  behold  a 
cape  at  sea,  with  greater  transport,  than  he  did  the  upper- 
most button  of  his  coat.  But  the  fluctuation  of  the  water 
was  such,  and  the  turn  of  the  tide  so  slow,  that  it  was  yet 
some  time  before  he  durst  venture  to  assure  himself,  that 
the  button  was  fairly  above  the  level  of  the  flood.  At 
length,  however,  a  second  appearing  at  intervals,  his  sen- 
sations may  rather  be  conceived  than  described  ;  and  his 
joy  gave  him  spirit  and  resolution,  to  support  his  uneasy 
situation  four  or  five  hours  longer,  till  the  waters  fully 
retired. 


PERILOUS    ADVENTURE    WITH   A    BEAR. 

SOME  time  in  the  month  of  November,  1803,  at  Hano- 
ver, New  Hampshire,  the  track  of  a  bear  was  discovered 
in  the  light  snow  which  had  fallen  the  day  preceding. 
Numbers  of  the  inhabitants,  supported  by  fire-arms,  dogs, 
&c.,  went  in  pursuit  of  her : — But,  as  the  snow  was  con- 
siderably drifted,  and  as  no  hounds  were  engaged  in  the 
chase,  she  evaded  their  pursuit  until  about  sun-set,  when 


2fi8  THE    MUSEUM. 

they  compelled  her  to  seek  refuge  in  a  vault,  or  cave.  In 
vain  did  they  strive  to  provoke  a  sally  on  her  part,  by  send- 
ing in  the  dogs,  by  fumigation,  &c. — nothing  but  hoarse 
growlings  were  returned.  To  their  great  mortification, 
they  were  obliged  to  watch  the  den  during  the  night.  In 
the  morning  it  was  determined  that  some  one  should  enter 
the  den,  and  endeavor  either  to  dispatch  or  dislodge  the 
enemy.  Every  one  declined  the  hazardous  enterprise. 

At  length  Mr.  Mason  March  concluded  to  make  the  at- 
tempt. Furnished  with  a  short  piece  of  a  lighted  candle,  he 
descended  the  cave  through  an  aperture  just  sufficient  to 
admit  a  person  of  middling  size,  in  a  direction  nearly  per- 
pendicular, to  the  depth  of  eight  or  nine  feet ;  thence,  hori- 
zontally, about  20  or  30  feet,  to  the  extremity ;  at  the 
right  of  which  was  a  cavern,  nearly  the  site  and  figure  of  a 
soldier's  tent,  the  entrance  of  which  was  so  far  blocked, 
with  a  stone  of  a  conic  figure,  as  just  to  leave  a  passage  for 
the  bear  on  either  side.  On  the  top  of  this  stone  he  placed 
the  candle,  and  then  went  in  search  of  the  bear,  who  from 
her  growlings  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  he  concluded  not  far 
distant ;  accordingly  he  undertook  to  crawl  through  the 
passage,  in  order  to  invade  her  retirement ;  but,  no  sooner 
had  he  presented  his  head  through  this  strait,  than  he  saw 
the  bear  gazing  at  the  candle,  her  head  not  being  more 
than  18  inches  from  his.  He  withdrew  his  head,  as  may 
well  be  imagined  ;  and,  having  placed  the  candle  in  a  dif- 
ferent position,  retreated  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  and 
applied  to  his  fellow  hunters  for  arms.  He  was  furnished 
with  a  loaded  musket,  and,  thus  equipped,  returned  to  the 
place  of  action. 

The  bear,  it  appears,  had  changed  her  position,  in  order 
to  watch  the  motion  of  her  enemy.  He  fancied  he  saw 
her  looking  out  of  the  passage  he  had  just  attempted  to  en- 
ter. His  situation  was  such  as  would  not  admit  of  taking 
aim,  (for  in  no  part  of  the  vault  could  a  man  stand  up 
erect ;)  therefore  he  must  fire  at  a  venture.  He  discharg 
ed,  dropped  his  piece,  and  retreated  with  precipitation 
Her  tone  was  changed  :  instead  of  horse  growling,  hei 
notes  were  like  those  of  a  bleeding,  expiring  swine,  which 
continued  to  grow  fainter  and  fainter.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments he  re-entered  the  cave,  and,  having  advanced  to  his 


THE    MUSEUM.  269 

former  stand,  beheld  something  dark  on  the  bottom  of  the 
cavern  ;  which,  taking  for  the  bear,  he  discharged  a  sec- 
ond time,  and  retreated  as  before. 

After  making  a  short  pause  for  the  smoke  to  evaporate, 
hearing  no  noise,  and  being  furnished  with  sufficient  cord, 
he  descended  the  third  and  last  time  ;  and  having  made  it 
fast  to  one  of  her  legs,  his  comrades  drew  her  forth.  She 
proved  to  be  of  uncommon  size,  of  the  long-legged  kind. 
According  to  appearance,  the  first  shot  was  fatal — the  ball 
entering  between  her  eyes,  and  lodging  between  her  hips. 


THE    OLD   JERSEY    CAPTIVE, 

Or  a  Narrative  of  the  Captivity  of  Thomas  Andros,  since  Pastor  of 
the  Church  in  Berkeley,  Mass.,  on  board  the  old  Jersey  Prison  Ship 
at  New  York,  1781. 

VIRGIL  represents  ^Eneas  as  soothing  the  breasts  of 
his  afflicted  companions  with  this  remark,  "  Perhaps  the 
recollection  of  these  things  will  hereafter  be  delightful." 
But  to  afford  real  pleasure,  the  remembrance  of  hardships 
and  sufferings  must  be  connected  with  some  principles 
and  facts,  which  cannot  apply  to  every  child  of  sorrow. 
The  daring  achievements  of  which  the  pirate  may  boast, 
and  the  fearful  calamities  he  may  have  suffered,  can  never 
be  truly  delightful  in  a  serious  recollection,  but  a  source 
of  the  keenest  anguish.  On  this  principle,  there  is  no 
escape  from  misery  to  such  as  never  repent  their  crimes. 
The  recollection  of  their  mad  and  impious  deeds  must  be 
tormenting  as  long  as  they  remain  conscious  rational  be- 
ings. Two  things  in  such  a  recollection,  if  it  be  a  source 
of  real  comfort,  must  be  true  ;  a  consciousness  that  the 
cause  in  which  we  suffered  was  just  and  good,  and  a 
sense  that  the  help  by  which  we  are  sustained,  and  our 
deliverance  effected,  was  the  bestowment  of  a  gracious 
and  compassionate  Creator.  I  had  a  full  conviction  at 
the  time  that  the  revolutionary  cause  was  just.  I  was 
but  in  my  seventeenth  year  when  the  struggle  commen- 
ced, and  no  politician ;  but  even  a  school-boy  could  see 
the  justice  of  some  of  the  principles,  on  the  ground  of 

45* 


270  THE    MUSEUM. 

which  the  country  had  recourse  to  arms.  The  colonies 
had  arrived  to  the  age  of  manhood.  They  were  fully 
competent  to  govern  themselves,  and  they  demanded  their 
freedom,  or  at  least  a  just  representation  in  the  national 
legislature. 

For  a  power  three  thousand  miles  distant  to  claim  a 
right  to  make  laws  to  bind  us  in  all  cases  whatever,  and 
we  to  have  no  voice  in  that  legislation,  this,  it  seemed, 
was  a  principle  to  which  two  millions  of  freemen  ought 
not  tamely  to  submit.  And  as  all  petitions  and  remon- 
strances availed  nothing,  and  as  the  British  government, 
instead  of  the  charter  of  our  liberties  and  rights,  sent  her 
fleets  and  armies  to  enforce  her  arbitrary  claims,  the 
colonies  had  no  alternative  but  slavery  or  war.  Appeal- 
ing to  Almighty  God  for  the  justice  of  their  cause,  they 
chose  the  latter.  Whether  I  approved  the  motives  that 
led  me  into  the  service,  is  another  question,  which  I  shall 
presently  notice.  As  to  the  strength  given  to  sustain  rny 
toils  and  sufferings,  and  the  deliverance  granted,  I  had  a 
powerful  conviction  that  these  were  the  gift  of  the  great 
Fountain  of  all  good. 

In  the  following  narrative,  our  highest  gratification,  as 
we  would  hope,  is  to  give  glory  to  that  kind  and  merciful 
Providence,  which  alone  could  have  rescued  me  in  the 
midst  of  so  many  deaths. 

I  would  speak  not  so  much  of  any  thing  I  myself  had 
achieved,  as  what  the  God  of  love  and  pity  had  per- 
formed. 

In  the  summer  of  1781,  the  ship  Hannah,  a  very  rich 
prize,  was  captured,  and  brought  into  the  port  of  New 
London.  But  in  this  case  it  was  far  worse  than  in  com 
mon  lottery  gambling,  for  it  followed  that  there  were 
thousands  of  fearful  blanks  to  this  one  prize.  It  infatu- 
ated great  numbers  of  young  men,  who  flocked  on  board 
our  private  armed  ships,  fancying  the  same  success  would 
attend  their  adventures ;  but  no  such  prize  was  ever  after 
brought  into  that  port. 

But  New  London  became  such  a  nest  of  privateers, 
that  the  English  determined  on  its  destruction,  and  sent 
an  armament  and  laid  it  in  ashes,  and  took  Fort  Griswold, 
on  the  Groton  side  of  the  river,  and  with  savage  cruelty 


?HE     MUSKUM.  271 

put  the  garrison  to  the  sword,  after  they  had  surrender- 
ed. Another  mighty  blank  to  this  prize  was,  that  our 
privateers  so  swarmed  on  the  ocean,  that  the  British 
cruisers,  who  were  everywhere  in  pursuit  of  them,  soon 
filled  their  prisons  at  New  York  to  overflowing  with  cap- 
tured American  seamen. 

Among  these  deluded  and  infatuated  youth,  I  was  one. 
I  entered  a  volunteer  on  board  a  new  brig,  called  the  Fair 
American,  built  on  purpose  to  prey  upon  the  British  com- 
merce. She  mounted  sixteen  carriage  guns,  and  was 
manned  with  a  crew  whose  numbers  exceeded  what  was 
really  her  complement.  The  quarter-deck,  tops,  and  long- 
boat, were  crowded  with  musketry,  so  that  in  action  she 
was  a  complete  flame  of  fire. 

We  had  not  been  long  at  sea  before  we  discovered  and 
gave  chase  to  an  English  brig,  as  long  as  ours,  and  in  ap- 
pearance mounting  as  many  guns.  As  we  approached 
her,  she  saluted  us  with  her  stern  chasers,  but  after  ex- 
changing a  few  shots,  we  ran  directly  alongside,  as  near 
as  we  could,  and  not  get  entangled  in  her  top  hamper, 
and  with  one  salute  of  all  the  fire  we  could  display,  put 
her  to  silence.  And,  thanks  be  to  God,  no  lives  were  lost. 

I,  with  others,  went  on  board  to  man  the  prize,  and 
take  her  into  port.  But  the  prize-master  disobeyed  orders. 
His  orders  were,  not  to  approach  the  American  coast  till 
he  had  reached  the  longitude  of  New  Bedford,  and  then 
to  haul  up  to  the  northward,  and  with  a  press  of  sail  to 
make  for  that  port — but  he  aimed  to  make  land  on  the 
back  of  Long  Island  :  the  consequence  was,  we  were 
captured  on  the  27th  of  August,  by  the  Solebay  frigate, 
and  safely  stowed  away  in  the  old  Jersey  prison  ship,  at 
New  York. 

This  was  an  old  sixty-four  gun  ship,  which,  through 
age,  had  become  unfit  for  further  actual  service.  She 
was  stripped  of  every  spar,  and  all  her  rigging.  After 
a  battle  with  a  French  fleet,  her  lion  figure-head  was  taken 
away  to  repair  another  ship  ;  no  appearance  of  ornament 
was  left,  and  nothing  remained  but  an  old,  unsightly,  rot- 
ten hulk.  Her  dark  and  filthy  external  appearance  per- 
fectly corresponded  with  the  death  and  despair  that 
reigned  within,  and  nothing  could  be  more  foreign  from 


272  THE    MUSEUM. 

truth  than  to  paint  her  with  colors  flying,  or  any  circum- 
stance or  appendage  to  please  the  eye.  She  was  moored 
about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to  the  eastward  of  Brook- 
lyn ferry,  near  a  tide-mill  on  the  Long  Island  shore.  The 
nearest  distance  to  land  was  about  twenty  rods.  And 
doubtless  no  other  ship  in  the  British  navy  ever  proved 
the  means  of  the  destruction  of  so  many  human  beings. 
It  is  computed  that  not  less  than  eleven  thousand  Amer- 
ican seamen  perished  in  her.  But  after  it  was  known 
that  it  was  next  to  certain  death  to  confine  a  prisoner 
here,  the  inhumanity  and  wickedness  of  doing  it  was 
about  the  same  as  if  he  had  been  taken  into  the  city,  and 
deliberately  shot  in  some  public  square.  But  as  if  mercy 
had  fled  from  the  earth,  here  we  were  doomed  to  dwell. 
And  never,  while  I  was  on  board,  did  any  Howard  or 
angel  of  pity  appear  to  inquire  into  or  alleviate  our  woes. 
Once  or  twice,  by  the  order  of  a  stranger  on  the  quarter- 
deck, a  bag  of  apples  was  hurled  promiscuously  into  the 
midst  of  hundreds  of  prisoners  crowded  together  as  thick 
as  they  could  stand,  and  life  and  limbs  were  endangered 
by  the  scramble.  This,  instead  of  compassion,  was  a 
cruel  sport.  When  I  saw  it  about  to  commence,  I  fled 
to  the  most  distant  part  of  the  ship. 

On  the  commencement  of  the  first  evening,  we  were 
driven  down  to  darkness  between  decks,  secured  by  iron 
gratings,  and  an  armed  soldiery ;  and  a  scene  of  horror, 
which  baffles  all  description,  presented  itself.  On  every 
side  wretched,  desponding  shapes  of  men  could  be  seen. 
Around  the  well-room  an  armed  guard  were  forcing  up 
the  prisoners  to  the  winches,  to  clear  the  ship  of  water, 
and  prevent  her  sinking,  and  little  else  could  be  heard 
but  a  roar  of  mutual  execrations,  reproaches,  and  insults. 
During  this  operation,  there  was  a  small  dim  light  admit- 
ted below,  but  it  served  to  make  darkness  more  visible, 
and  horror  more  terrific.  In  my  reflections,  I  said  this 
must  be  a  complete  image  and  anticipation  of  Hell. 
Milton's  description  of  the  dark  world  rushed  upon  my 
mind: 

"  Sights  of  wo,  regions  of  sorrow,  doleful 
Shades,  where  peace  and  rest  can  never  dwelL" 


THE    MUSEUM.  273 

But  another  reflection  inflicted  a  still  deeper  wound. 
How  came  I  here  ?  From  what  motives  did  I  go  in  quest 
of  British  property  on  the  ocean  ?  The  cause  of  Amer- 
ica I  did  indeed  approve  ;  and  as  to  the  business  of  pri- 
vateering, considered  as  a  national  act,  I  did  not  see  the 
force  of  that  reasoning  by  which  some  good  men  con- 
demned it. 

If  it  be  right  to  inflict  a  wound  on  a  nation  with  whom 
we  are  at  war,  it  is  right,  I  thought,  to  strike  at  their 
commerce.  Is  it  not  the  object  of  war  to  bring  a  wicked 
nation  to  a  sense  of  justice  by  the  infliction  of  pain  ? 
Strike,  then,  where  they  will  feel  most  sensibly.* 

But  was  it  a  real  love  of  country,  or  a  desire  to  please 
my  Maker,  that  prompted  me  to  engage  in  this  service  ? 
My  conduct  was  indeed  legalized  by  my  country,  but 
what  better  than  that  of  a  pirate  was  my  motive  ?  I 
could  not  stand  before  this  self-scrutiny.  At  the  bar  of 
God  and  my  own  conscience  I  was  condemned.  I  cried 
out,  "  O  Lord  God,  thou  art  good,  but  I  am  wicked.  Thou 
hast  done  right  in  sending  me  to  this  doleful  prison  ;  it  is 
but  just  what  I  deserve."  I  could  indeed  plead  that  sor- 
did avarice  was  not  my  sole  motive,  but  curiosity — a  love 
of  enterprise,  a  wish  to  witness  something  of  "  the  pomp 
and  circumstance  of  war;"  to  gaze  at  what  kept  the  world 
awake,  had  an  influence ;  but  this  was  but  a  slender  pal- 
liation. I  was  so  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  guilt,  that 

*  What  I  have  related  I  would  not  have  pass  for  my  riper  and  more  sober 
thoughts  of  war.  I  do  now  condemn  war  in  all  its  causes  and  forms,  ex- 
cept that  of  absolute  self-defence.  And  even  in  this  case,  a  people  ought 
to  act  by  the  Christian  spirit  and  rule,  and  to  be  slow  to  anger,  to  be  long, 
suffering,  to  put  up  with  many  injuries  and  insults  rather  than  have  recourse 
to  war.  It  is  a  desperate  remedy,  and  generally  far  worse  than  the  disease. 
•And  if,  at  last,  in  self-defence  we  must  strike,  let  the  blow  be  as  mild  and 
mixed  with  as  much  mercy  as  possible.  However  falsely  ambitious  and 
wicked  men  may  reason  about  the  doctrine  of  self-defence,  and  misapply 
it,  to  justify  war  in  all  cases,  I  am  not  prepared  to  surrender  it.  For,  in  this 
surrender,  it  appears  to  me  I  do  necessarily  give  up  the  possibility  of  main, 
taining  civil  government.  I  must  believe  with  St.  Paul,  that  the  sword  is 
the  proper  badge  of  the  civil  magistrate,  and  even  God  requires  he  should 
use  it  so  as  to  be  a  terror  to  evil-doers.  Rom.  xiii. 

To  speak  of  civil  government  as  itself  guilty  of  murder  when  the  law  pun- 
ishes capitally  the  man  who  has  shed  the  blood  of  his  neighbor,  is,  I  believe, 
to  commit  the  crime  of  speaking  evil  of  dignities,  and  borders  more  on  in- 
sanity than  sound  Scripture  or  reason. 


274  THE    MUSEUM. 

I  do  not  recollect  that  I  even  asked  for  pardon  or  deliv- 
erance at  this  time. 

When  I  first  became  an  inmate  of  this  abode  of  suffer- 
ing, despair,  and  death,  there  were  about  four  hundred 
prisoners  on  board,  but  in  a  short  time  they  amounted  to 
twelve  hundred.  And  in  proportion  to  our  numbers  the 
mortality  increased. 

All  the  most  deadly  diseases  were  pressed  into  the  ser- 
vice of  the  king  of  terrors,  but  his  prime  ministers  were 
dysentery,  small-pox,  and  yellow  fever.  There  were  two 
hospital  ships  near  to  the  Old  Jersey,  but  these  were  soon 
so  crowded  with  the  sick,  that  they  could  receive  no  more. 
The  consequence  was,  that  the  diseased  and  the  healthy 
were  mingled  together  in  the  main  ship.  In  a  short  time 
we  had  two  hundred  or  more  sick  and  dying  lodged  in 
the  fore  part  of  the  lower  gun  deck,  where  all  the  pris- 
oners were  confined  at  night.  Utter  derangement  was  a 
common  symptom  of  yellow  fever,  and  to  increase  the 
horror  of  the  darkness  that  shrouded  us,  (for  we  were 
allowed  no  light  betwixt  decks,)  the  voice  of  warning 
would  be  heard,  "  Take  heed  to  yourselves.  There  is  a 
mad-man  stalking  through  the  ship  with  a  knife  in  his 
hand."  I  sometimes  found  the  man  a  corpse  in  the  morn- 
ing, by  whose  side  I  laid  myself  down  at  night.  At 
another  time  he  would  become  deranged,  and  attempt  in 
darkness  to  rise  and  stumble  over  the  bodies  that  every- 
where covered  the  deck.  In  this  case,  I  had  to  hold  him 
in  his  place  by  main  strength.  In  spite  of  my  efforts  he 
would  sometimes  rise,  and  then  I  had  to  close  in  with 
him,  trip  up  his  heels,  and  lay  him  again  upon  the  deck. 
While  so  many  were  sick  with  raging  fever,  there  was  a 
loud  cry  for  water,  but  none  could  be  had  except  on  the 
upper  deck,  and  but  one  allowed  to  ascend  at  a  time. 
The  suffering  then,  from  the  rage  of  thirst  during  the 
night,  was  very  great.  Nor  was  it  at  all  times  safe  to 
attempt  to  go  up.  Provoked  by  the  continual  cry  for 
leave  to  ascend,  when  there  was  already  one  on  deck,  the 
sentry  would  push  them  back  with  his  bayonet.  By  one 
of  these  thrusts,  which  was  more  spiteful  and  violent  than 
common,  I  had  a  narrow  escape  of  my  life.  In  the  morn- 
ing the  hatchways  were  thrown  open,  and  we  were 


THE     MUSEUM.  275 

allowed  to  ascend,  all  at  once,  and  remain  on  the  upper 
deck  during  the  day.  But  the  first  object  that  met  our 
view  in  the  morning  was  an  appalling  spectacle.  A  boat 
loaded  with  dead  bodies,  conveying  them  to  the  Long 
Island  shore,  where  they  were  very  slightly  covered  with 
sand.  I  sometimes  used  to  stand  to  count  the  number  of 
times  the  shovel  was  filled  with  sand  to  cover  a  dead 
body  ;  and  certain  I  am  that  a  few  high  tides  or  torrents 
of  rain  must  have  disinterred  them.  And  had  they  not 
been  removed,  I  should  suppose  the  shore,  even  now, 
would  be  covered  with  huge  piles  of  the  bones  of  Amer- 
ican seamen.  There  were  probably  four  hundred  on 
board  who  had  never  had  the  small-pox — some,  perhaps, 
might  have  been  saved  by  inoculation. 

But  humanity  was  wanting  to  try  even  this  experiment. 
Let  our  disease  be  what  it  would,  we  were  abandoned  to 
our  fate.  Now  and  then  an  American  physician  was 
brought  in  as  a  captive,  but  if  he  could  obtain  his  parole, 
he  left  the  ship  ;  nor  could  we  much  blame  him  for  this 
— for  his  own  death  was  next  to  certain,  and  his  success 
in  saving  others  by  medicine,  in  our  situation,  was  small. 
I  remember  only  two  American  physicians  who  tarried 
on  board  a  few  days.  No  English  physician,  or  any  one 
from  the  city,  ever,  to  my  knowledge,  came  near  us. 
There  were  thirteen  of  the  crew  to  which  I  belonged  ; 
but  in  a  short  time  all  but  three  or  four  were  dead.  The 
most  healthy  and  vigorous  were  first  seized  with  the 
fever,  and  died  in  a  few  hours.  For  them,  there  seemed 
to  be  no  mercy.  My  constitution  was  less  muscular  and 
plethoric,  and  I  escaped  the  fever  longer  than  any  of  the 
thirteen,  except  one,  and  the  first  onset  was  less  violent. 

There  is  one  palliating  circumstance  as  to  the  inhu- 
manity of  the  British,  which  ought  to  be  mentioned.  The 
prisoners  were  furnished  with  buckets  and  brushes  to 
cleanse  the  ship,  and  with  vinegar  to  sprinkle  her  inside. 
But  their  indolence  and  despair  were  such  that  they  would 
not  use  them,  or  but  rarely.  And,  indeed,  at  this  time, 
the  encouragement  to  do  it  was  small.  For  the  whole 
ship,  from  the  keel  to  the  tafferel,  was  equally  affected, 
and  contained  pestilence  sufficient  to  desolate  a  world — 
disease  and  death  were  wrought  into  her  very  timbers 


276  THE    MUSEUM. 

At  the  time  I  left,  it  is  to  be  presumed  a  more  filthy,  con- 
tagious, and  deadly  abode  for  human  beings,  never  existed 
among  a  christianized  people.  It  fell  but  little  short  of 
the  Black  Hole  at  Calcutta.  Death  was  more  lingering, 
but  almost  equally  certain. 

The  lower  hold  and  the  orlop  deck  were  such  a  terror, 
that  no  man  would  venture  down  into  them.  Humanity 
would  have  dictated  a  more  merciful  treatment  to  a  band 
of  pirates,  who  had  been  condemned,  and  were  only 
awaiting  the  gibbet,  than  to  have  sent  them  here.  But 
in  the  view  of  the  English  we  were  rebels  and  traitors. 
We  had  risen  against  the  mother  country,  in  an  unjust 
and  wanton  civil  war.  On  this  ground,  they  seemed  to 
consider  us  as  not  entitled  to  that  humanity  which  might 
be  expected  by  prisoners  taken  in  a  war  with  a  foreign 
nation.  Our  water  was  good,  could  we  have  had  enough 
of  it ;  our  bread  was  bad  in  the  superlative  degree.  I 
do  not  recollect  seeing  any  which  was  not  full  of  living 
vermin ;  but  eat  it,  worms  and  all,  we  must,  or  starve. 
The  prisoners  had  laws  and  regulations  among  them- 
selves. In  severity  they  were  like  the  laws  of  Draco — 
wo  to  him  that  dared  to  trample  them  under  foot. 

A  secret  prejudicial  to  a  prisoner,  revealed  to  the  guard, 
was  death.  Captain  Young,  of  Boston,  concealed  him- 
self in  a  large  chest  belonging  to  a  sailor  going  to  be  ex- 
changed, and  was  carried  on  board  the  cartel,  and  we 
considered  his  escape  as  certain ;  but  the  secret  leaked 
out,  and  he  was  brought  back ;  and  one  Spicer,  of  Prov- 
idence, being  suspected  as  the  traitor,  the  enraged  pris- 
oners were  about  to  take  his  life.  His  head  was  drawn 
back,  and  the  knife  raised  to  cut  his  throat;  but  having 
obtained  a  hint  of  what  was  going  on  below,  the  guard 
at  this  instant  rushed  down,  and  rescued  the  man.  Of 
his  guilt  at  the  time,  there  was,  to  me,  at  least,  no  con- 
vincing evidence.  It  is  a  pleasure  now  to  reflect  that  I 
had  no  hand  in  the  outrage. 

If  there  was  any  principle  among  the  prisoners  that 
could  not  be  shaken,  it  was  the  love  of  their  country. 
I  knew  no  one  to  be  seduced  into  the  British  ser- 
vice. They  attempted  to  force  one  of  our  prize  brig's 
crew  into  the  navy,  but  he  chose  rather  to  die  than 


THE    MUSEUM.  277 

perform  any  duty,  and  he  was  again  restored  to  the 
prison-ship. 

Another  rule,  the  violation  of  which  would  expose  the 
offender  to  great  danger,  was,  not  to  touch  the  provis- 
ions belonging  to  another  mess.  This  was  a  common 
cause  ;  and  if  one  complained  that  he  was  robbed,  it  pro- 
duced an  excitement  of  no  little  terror. 

Another  rule  was,  no  giant-like  man  should  be  allowed 
to  tyrannize  over,  or  abuse  another,  who  was  no  way  his 
equal  in  strength. 

As  to  religion,  I  do  not  remember  of  beholding  any 
trace  of  it  in  the  ship.  I  saw  no  Bible — heard  no  prayer 
— no  religious  conversation — no  clergyman  visited  us, 
though  no  set  of  afflicted  and  dying  men  more  needed 
the  light  and  consolations  of  religion.  But  the  Bethel 
flag  had  not  yet  waved  over  any  ship.  I  know  not  that 
God's  name  was  ever  mentioned,  unless  it  was  in  profane- 
ness  or  blasphemy  ;  but  as  every  man  had  almost  the  cer- 
tain prospect  of  death  before  him,  no  doubt  there  were 
more  or  less  who,  in  their  own  mind,  like  myself,  had 
some  serious  thoughts  of  their  accountability,  of  a  future 
state,  and  of  a  judgment  to  come ;  but  as  to  the  main 
body,  it  seemed  that  when  they  most  needed  religion, 
they  treated  it  with  the  greatest  contempt. 

I  wish  it  to  be  understood  that  what  I  have  said  of  this 
horrid  prison  relates  almost  exclusively  to  the  time  I  was 
on  board.  Of  what  took  place  before  or  afterward,  I 
say  little.  To  all  I  do  relate,  the  words  of  the  Latin 
poet  are  in  some  degree  applicable  : 

"  Which  things,  most  worthy  of  pity  I  myself  saw, 
And  of  them — was  a  part." 

Nor  would  I  heap  the  cruel  horrors  of  this  prison-ship 
as  a  reproach  upon  the  whole  nation,  without  exception. 
It  is  indeed  a  blot  which  a  thousand  ages  cannot  eradi- 
cate from  the  name  of  Britain ;  but  no  doubt,  when  the 
pious  and  humane  among  them  came  to  know  what  had 
been  done,  they  utterly  reprobated  such  cruelty.  Since 
that  time,  the  nation  has  so  greatly  improved  in  Chris- 
tian light,  feeling,  and  humanity,  that  they  would  not  now 
treat  even  rebels  with  such  barbarity  ;  and  it  is  expected 

46 


278  THE     MlTSEtTM. 

that  this  remark  will  be  realized  in  their  treatment  of  all 
other  countries,  who  may  wish  and  struggle  to  obtain  the 
blessings  of  freedom  and  independence. 

While  on  board,  almost  every  thought  was  occupied  to 
invent  some  plan  of  escape ;  but  day  after  day  passed,  and 
none  presented  that  I  dared  to  put  in  execution.  But  the 
time  had  now  come  when  I  must  be  delivered  from  the  ship 
or  die.  It  could  not  be  delayed  even  a  few  days  longer  ; 
but  no  plan  could  I  think  of  that  offered  a  gleam  of  hope. 
If  I  did  escape  with  my  life,  I  could  see  no  way  for  it 
but  by  miracle. 

If  I  continued  on  board  a  few  days,  or  even  hours 
longer,  the  prospect  was  certain  death  ;  for  I  was  now 
seized  with  the  yellow  fever,  and  should  unavoidably 
take  the  natural  small-pox  with  it ;  and  who  does  not 
know  that  I  could  not  survive  the  operation  of  both 
these  diseases  at  once?  I  had  never  experienced  the 
latter  disease  in  any  way,  and  it  was  now  beginning  to 
rage  on  board  the  Old  Jersey,  and  none  could  be  re- 
moved. The  hospital  ships  being  already  full  of  the  sick, 
the  pox  was  nearly  ripe  in  the  pustules  of  some ;  and  I 
not  only  slept  near  them,  but  assisted  in  nursing  those 
who  had  the  symptoms  most  violently.  In  a  very  short 
time  my  doom  must  have  been  settled  had  I  remained  in 
the  ship. 

The  arrival  of  a  cartel,  and  my  being  exchanged,  would 
not  help  the  matter,  but  render  my  death  the  more  sure. 
When  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  prisoners  was  called  for 
on  board  the  frigate  by  which  we  were  captured,  I  step- 
ped up  and  gave  in  my  name  first,  supposing  that,  in  case 
of  an  exchange,  I  should  be  the  sooner  favored  with  this 
privilege.  And  the  fact  indeed  was,  that  no  exchanges 
took  place,  but  from  the  port  of  New  London.  And 
former  exchanges  had  left  me  first  on  the  roll  of  cap- 
tives from  this  port ;  and  I  dreaded  nothing  more  than 
the  arrival  of  a  cartel,  for  numbers  would  be  put  on 
board  and  sent  home  with  me  from  the  hospital  ships, 
whose  flesh  was  ready  to  fall  from  their  bones  in  this 
dreadful  disease  ;  and,  indeed,  I  had  no  sooner  made  my 
escape,  than  a  cartel  did  arrive,  and  such  dying  men  were 
actually  crowded  into  it ;  and  it  was  evidently  the  policy 


THE    MUSEUM.  279 

of  the  English  to  return  for  sound  and  healthy  men,  sent 
from  our  prisons,  such  Americans  as  had  just  the  breath 
of  life  in  them,  and  were  sure  to  die  before  they  reached 
home.  The  guard  were  wont  to  tell  a  man,  while  in 
health,  "  You  have  not  been  here  long  enough — you  are 
too  well  to  be  exchanged." 

There  was  yet  one  more  conceivable  method  of  get- 
ting from  the  ship,  and  that  was,  the  next  night  to  steal 
down  through  a  gun-port,  which  we  had  managed  to  open 
when  we  pleased,  unbeknown  to  the  guard,  and  swim 
ashore.  But  this  was  a  most  forlorn  hope ;  for  I  was 
under  the  operation  of  the  yellow  fever,  and  but  just  able 
to  walk,  and  when  well,  I  could  never  swim  ten  rods,  and 
should  now  have  at  least  twenty  to  swim.  Besides,  when 
in  the  water,  there  was  almost  a  certainty  I  should  be 
discovered  by  the  guard  and  shot,  as  others  had  been. 

In  this  situation,  what  wisdom  or  what  finite  power 
could  save  me  ?  If  I  tarried  on  board,  I  must  perish  ! 
If  put  on  board  the  cartel  every  hour  expected,  I  must 
oerish  !  If  I  attempted  to  swim  away,  I  must !  If  utter 
despair  of  life  had  now  taken  hold  of  me,  who  could  have 
said  there  was  no  ground  for  it  ?  But  now  it  seems  that 
God,  who  had  something  more  for  me  to  do  than  to  per- 
ish in  that  ship,  undertook  for  me. 

"  When  helpers  fail  and  foes  invade, 
God  is  our  all-sufficient  aid." 

Mr.  Emery,  the  sailing-master,  was  just  now  going 
ashore  after  water.  Without  really  considering  what  I 
said,  and  without  the  least  expectation  of  success,  I  thus 
addressed  him,  "Mr.  Emery,  may  I  go  on  shore  with 
you  after  water  ?"  My  lips  seemed  to  move  almost  in- 
voluntarily, for  no  such  thing  to  my  knowledge  had  ever 
been  granted  to  such  a  prisoner.  To  the  surprise  and 
astonishment  of  all  that  heard  him,  he  replied,  "  Yes,  with 
all  my  heart."  I  then  descended  immediately  into  the 
boat,  which  was  in  waiting  for  him.  But  the  prisoners 
came  to  the  ship's  side  and  queried,  "  What  is  that  sick 
man  going  on  shore  for  ?"  And  the  British  sailors  en- 
deavored to  dissuade  me  from  it,  but  never  was  counsel 
so  little  regarded  as  theirs,  and  to  put  them  all  to  silence 


280  THE    MUSEUM.. 

I  again  ascended  on  board ;  but  even  this  was  an  inter- 
position of  a  kind  Providence,  for  I  had  neglected  to  take 
my  great-coat,  without  which  I  must  have  perished  in 
cold  and  storms.  But  I  now  put  it  on,  and  waited  for 
the  sailing-master,  meaning  to  step  down  again  into  the 
boat  just  before  him,  which  I  did,  and  turned  my  face 
away,  that  I  might  not  be  recognised,  and  another  at- 
tempt be  made  to  prevent  my  going.  The  boat  was 
pushed  off,  and  we  were  soon  clear  of  the  ship.  I  took 
an  oar,  and  attempted  to  row,  but  an  English  sailor  took 
it  from  me,  and  very  kindly  said.  "  Give  me  that  oar,  you 
are  not  able  to  use  it ;  you  are  too  unwell."  I  resigned 
it,  and  gave  up  myself  to  the  most  intense  thought  upon 
my  situation.  I  had  commenced  the  execution  of  a  plan, 
in  which,  if  I  failed,  my  life  was  gone  ;  but  if  I  succeed- 
ed, it  was  possible  I  might  live.  I  looked  back  to  the 
black  and  unsightly  old  ship,  as  an  object  of  the  greatest 
horror.  "  Am  I  to  escape,  or  return  there  and  perish," 
was  with  me  the  all-absorbing  question.  I  believed  in  a 
God,  whose  plans  and  purposes  were  eternal  and  immu- 
table, and  had  no  doubt  but  that  with  him  my  bounds 
were  set,  and  my  destiny  unalterably  fixed.  O  that  I 
could  know  how  he  intended  to  dispose  of  me,  that  I 
might  struggle  with  the  hope  of  success,  or  resign  myself 
to  my  fate ! 

But  this  train  of  thought  was  soon  terminated  by  the 
consideration,  "  that  secret  things  belong  to  God  ;"  and 
that  all  my  present  concern  was  action,  or  the  applica- 
tion of  the  proper  means  of  escape — and  now  we  had 
ascended  the  creek,  and  arrived  to  the  spring  where  the 
casks  were  to  be  filled,  and  I  proposed  to  the  sailors  to 
go  in  quest  of  apples.  I  had  before  told  them  that  this 
was  my  object  in  coming  on  shore,  but  they  chose  to  de- 
fer it  till  the  boat  was  loaded ;  and  they  did  not  exact 
any  labor  of  me.  This  was  just  as  I  would  have  it.  I 
thought  I  could  do  quite  as  well  without  their  company 
as  with  it. 

The  sailing-master  passing  by  me,  very  kindly  remark- 
ed, "  The  fresh  air  will  be  of  service  to  you."  This  em- 
boldened me  to  ask  leave  to  ascend  the  bank,  a  slope  of 
about  forty-five  degrees  and  thirty  feet  in  height,  termi- 


THE    MUSEUM.  281 

nating  in  a  plain  of  considerable  extent,  and  to  call  at  a 
house  near  by  for  some  refreshment.  He  said,  "Go,  but 
take  care  and  not  be  out  of  the  way."  I  replied,  "My 
state  of  health  was  such  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear  on 
that  score."  But  here,  1  confess,  I  violated  a  principle 
of  honor  for  which  I  could  not  then,  nor  can  I  now  en- 
tirely excuse  myself.  I  feel  a  degree  of  conscious  mean- 
ness for  treating  a  man  thus,  who  put  confidence  in  me 
and  treated  me  in  such  a  manner  as  showed  he  was  a 
gentleman  of  sensibility  and  kindness.  But  the  love  of 
life  was  my  temptation  ;  but  this  principle  is  always  too 
great,  when  it  tempts  us  to  violate  any  principle  of  moral 
rectitude  and  honor.  And  should  I  even  now  learn  that 
my  escape  involved  him  in  any  trouble,  it  would  be  a 
matter  of  deep  regret.  Not  long  after  my  arrival  at 
home,  I  sent  him  my  apology  for  what  I  did  by  a  British 
officer,  who  was  exchanged  and  going  directly  to  New 
York. 

I  consider  him  as  God's  chosen  instrument  to  save  me, 
— and  to  him  I  owe  my  life. 

When  the  boat  returned,  the  inquiry  was  made  by  the 
prisoners,  (as  I  was  afterward  informed,)  "  Where  is 
the  sick  man  that  went  with  you  ?"  The  English  sailors 
consoled  themselves  with  this  reply,  "Ah,  he  is  safe 
enough,  he  will  never  live  to  go  a  mile."  They  did  not 
know  what  the  Sovereign  of  life  and  death  could  enable 
a  sick  man  to  do. 

Intent  on  the  business  of  escape,  I  surveyed  the  land- 
scape all  around.  I  discovered  at  the  distance  of  half  a 
mile,  what  appeared  to  be  a  dense  swamp  of  young  maples 
and  other  bushes.  On  this  I  fixed  as  my  hiding-place  ; 
but  how  should  I  get  to  it  without  being  discovered  and 
apprehended  before  I  could  reach  it.  I  had  i-eason  to 
think  the  boat's  crew  would  keep  an  eye  upon  me ;  and 
people  were  to  be  seen  at  a  distance  in  almost  every  di- 
rection. But  there  was  an  orchard  which  extended  a 
good  way  toward  the  swamp,  and  while  I  wandered  from 
tree  to  tree  in  this  orchard  I  should  not  be  suspected  of 
any  thing  more  than  searching  after  fruit.  But  at  my 
first  entrance  into  it  I  found  a  soldier  on  sentry,  and  I 
had  to  find  out  what  his  business  was,  and  soon  discovered 

46* 


482  THE    MUSEUM. 

he  had  nothing  to  do  with  me,  but  only  to  guard  a  heap 
of  apples  ;  and  I  now  gradually  worked  myself  oft'  to  the 
end  of  the  orchard  next  to  the  swamp,  and  looking  round 
on  every  side,  I  saw  no  person,  from  whom  I  might  ap- 
prehend immediate  danger. 

The  boat's  crew  being  yet  at  work  under  the  bank  of 
the  creek,  and  out  of  sight,  I  stepped  off  deliberately,  (for 
I  was  unable  to  run,  and  had  I  been  able,  it  would  have 
tended  to  excite  suspicion  in  any  one  that  might  have 
seen  me,  even  at  a  distance,)  and  having  forded  the  creek 
once  or  twice,  I  reached  the  swamp  in  safety.  I  soon 
found  a  place  which  seemed  to  have  been  formed  by  na- 
ture for  concealment.  A  huge  log,  twenty  feet  in  length, 
having  lain  there  for  many  years,  was  spread  over  on 
both  sides  with  such  a  dense  covering  of  green  running 
briers  as  to  be  impervious  to  the  eye.  Lifting  up  this 
covering  at  one  end,  I  crept  in  close  by  the  log,  and 
rested  comfortably  and  securely,  for  I  was  well  defended 
from  the  north-east  storm,  which  soon  commenced. 

When  the  complete  darkness  of  the  night  had  shut  in, 
and  while  raining  in  torrents,  I  began  to  feel  my  way 
out.  And  though  but  just  able  to  walk,  and  though  often 
thrown  all  along  into  the  water  by  my  clothes  getting 
entangled  with  the  bushes,  yet  I  reached  the  dry  land, 
and  endeavored  to  shape  my  course  for  the  east  end  of 
Long  Island.  In  this  I  was  assisted  by  finding  how  New 
York  bore  from  me  by  the  sound  of  ship-bells,  and  the 
din  of  labor  and  activity  even  at  that  late  time  of  night. 

Here  let  me  remark,  how  easy  it  is  with  God  to  cause 
men  to  do  good,  when  they  intend  no  such  thing.  With- 
out any  great-coat,  it  would  have  been  scarcely  possible 
to  have  survived  the  tempest  of  rain  and  cold  of  this 
night  in  the  month  of  October.  But  had  not  the  prison- 
ers endeavored  to  prevent  my  going  in  the  boat,  and 
caused  me  to  ascend  again  into  the  ship,  I  should  have 
left  it  behind.  Little  did  I  then  think  what  good  heaven 
meant  to  bestow  on  me,  by  the  trouble  they  then  gave 
me. 

I  soon  fell  into  a  road  that  seemed  to  lead  the  right 
way,  and  when,  during  the  night,  I  perceived  I  was 
about  to  meet  any  one,  my  constant  plan  was  to  retire 


THE    MUSEUM.  298 

to  a  small  distance  from  the  path,  and  roll  myself  up  as 
well  as  I  could  to  resemble  a  small  bunch  of  bushes,  or 
fern.  By  this  expedient  I  was  often  saved  from  recap- 
ture. 

This  road  soon  brought  me  into  quite  a  populous  vil- 
lage, which  was  resounding  with  drums  and  fifes,  and  full 
of  soldiers,  but  in  great  mercy  to  me  it  rained  in  torrents, 
so  I  passed  through  in  the  midst  of  the  street  in  safety. 
Here  I  would  remark,  once  for  all,  that  I  was  then  so 
entirely  unacquainted  with  the  particular  geography  of 
Long  Island,  that  I  could  not  name  the  places  where  the 
events  of  my  narrative  happened,  nor  shall  I  now  attempt 
to  do  it.  By  an  accurate  map  before  me,  it  is  possible  I 
might  decide  what  village  this  was,  but  I  shall  let  it  pass 
without  name.  It  would  not  have  been  any  great  mark 
of  wisdom  to  have  stopped  when  passing  through  it,  and 
inquired  of  these  fifers  and  drummers,  what  was  the  name 
of  the  place. 

Being  sick  and  greatly  exhausted  by  the  adventures  of 
the  day  and  night,  it  now  became  absolutely  necessary 
to  seek  a  place  of  rest,  and  a  barn  to  me  was  now  the 
only  place  in  which  I  dared  to  enter.  I  stepped  up  to 
the  door,  of  what  I  took  to  be  such  a  building,  and  was 
just  about  to  open  it,  when  my  eye  was  arrested  by  a 
white  streak  on  the  threshold,  which  I  found  to  be  the 
light  reflected  from  a  candle,  and  I  heard  human  voices 
within.  But  human  voices  were  now  to  me  the  object 
of  the  greatest  terror,  and  I  fled  with  all  the  speed  I 
possessed. 

Coming  to  another  barn,  I  discovered  a  high  stack  of 
hay  in  the  yard  covered  with  a  Dutch  cap :  I  ascended 
and  sunk  myself  down  deep  in  the  hay,  supposing  I  had 
found  a  most  comfortable  retreat.  But  how  miserably 
was  I  deceived  !  The  weather  had  now  cleared  up,  and 
the  wind  blew  strong  and  cold  from  the  north-west,  and 
the  hay  was  nothing  but  coarse  sedge,  and  the  wind 
passed  into  it  and  reached  me  as  if  I  had  no  protection 
from  it.  I  had  not  a  dry  thread  in  my  clothes,  and  my 
sufferings  from  this  time  to  about  eleven  o'clock  the  next 
day,  were  great, — too  great  even  for  health,  but  I  had  to 
encounter  them  under  the  operation  of  a  malignant  fever, 


284  THE    MUSEUM. 

which  would  have  confined  me  to  my  room,  if  not  to  my 
bed,  had  I  been  at  home. 

A  young  woman  came  into  the  yard  and  milked  a 
cow,  just  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  where  I  lay  concealed : 
but  I  had  no  eye  to  pity,  or  kind  hand  to  alleviate  my 
distress.  This  brought  home,  with  all  the  tender  chari- 
ties of  mother,  sister,  and  brothers  to  my  recollection, 
with  a  sensibility  I  could  feel,  but  cannot  describe.  The 
day  was  clear  and  grew  more  moderate,  and  the  coast 
being  clear  also,  I  left  my  cold  and  wretched  retreat,  and 
deliberately  made  off  for  the  woods,  at  the  distance  of 
half  a  mile.  Before  I  left  the  ship  I  had  seen  prisoners 
who  had  escaped  retaken  and  carried  back.  But  their 
mistake  was,  they  would  go  two  or  more  in  company. 
But  I  would  have  no  companion,  it  would  excite  suspi- 
cion, and  render  concealment  more  difficult,  and  under 
the  kind  providence  of  God,  I  choose  to  be  my  own  coun- 
sellor, and  to  have  none  to  fall  out  with  on  the  way,  as 
to  what  course  we  should  pursue. 

Having  entered  the  woods,  I  found  a  small,  but  deep 
dry  hollow,  clear  of  brush  in  the  centre,  though  surround- 
ed with  a  thicket  on  every  side.  Into  this  the  sun  shone 
with  a  most  delightful  warmth.  Here  I  stripped  myself 
naked,  and  spread  out  my  clothes  to  dry. 

Being  too  impatient  of  delay,  I  regained  the  road  just 
as  the  sun  was  setting,  but  it  came  near  to  proving  fatal ; 
for  I  discovered  just  ahead  two  light  dragoons  coming 
down  upon  me.  At  first  it  seemed  escape  was  impos- 
sible. But  that  God,  who  gave  me  a  quickness  of  thought 
in  expedients  that  seemed  to  go  quite  beyond  myself, 
was  present  with  his  kind  aid. 

I  now  happened  to  be  near  a  small  cottage,  and  a  corn- 
field adjoining  the  road. — I  feigned  myself  to  be  the  man 
of  that  cottage, — the  owner  of  that  corn-field.  And  get- 
ting over  the  fence,  I  went  about  the  field  deliberately 
picking  up  the  ears  of  corn  that  had  fallen  down,  and 
righting  up  the  cap-sheaf  of  a  stack  of  stalks.  The  dra 
goons  came  nigh,  eyed  me  carefully,  though  I  affected  to 
take  no  notice  of  them,  and  passed  on.  They  were  pro- 
bably in  search  of  me. 

I  had  lost  my  hat  overboard,  when  in  the  Old  Jersey, 


TTIE    MTTSEtTM.  285 

and  had  henceforward  to  cover  my  head  with  a  hand- 
kerchief. I  deemed  it  a  calamity  at  the  time,  but  as  an 
act  of  Providence  the  mystery  now  began  to  be  unfold- 
ed. Having  no  hat  but  a  handkerchief  about  my  head, 
helped  to  deceive  the  dragoons,  and  cause  them  to  think 
I  was  the  cottager,  who  owned  the  corn-field. 

To  lie  concealed  during  the  day,  and  to  travel  at  night, 
was  my  practice,  till  I  had  got  far  towards  the  east  end 
of  the  island.  For  several  days  I  had  not  taken  any 
nourishment,  but  water  and  apples.  I  found  late  pears, 
and  was  pleased  with  their  taste,  but  they  operated  as 
an  emetic,  quicker  than  ipecac.  A  subacid  apple  sat  well 
on  my  stomach,  and  was  very  refreshing,  though  had  I 
been  sick  at  home  with  the  same  disease,  I  should  pro- 
bably have  been  denied  this  favor.  Indeed,  from  what 
I  experienced  in  the  free  use  of  water,  ripe  fruit,  unfer- 
mented  cider  found  at  the  presses,  &c.,  I  was  led  to  sus- 
pect, that  a  great  deal  of  the  kind  nursing  of  persons  in 
fever,  was  an  unnecessary  and  cruel  kind  of  self-denial. 
But  I  supposed  nature  would  sink  without  some  other 
kind  of  aliment.  But  the  first  attempt  to  act  upon  this 
principle  would  have  proved  fatal,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
kind  providential  interference. 

Late  in  the  evening,  I  stepped  up  to  a  house  on  the 
road,  and  lifted  my  hand  to  rap,  but  the  door  folded  in- 
ward, and  evaded  my  stroke,  and  a  lady  appeared  with 
a  light  in  her  hand.  I  besought  of  her  a  draught  of 
milk :  she  replied,  "  that  there  was  then  a  guard  of  sol- 
diers in  the  house,  and  they  had  consumed  it  all."  The 
business  of  this  guard  was  to  keep  a  look-out  towards 
Long  Island  sound,  and  their  sentries  were  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  house.  Had  I  rapped  and  been  met  by 
one  of  this  guard  instead  of  the  lady,  what  would  have 
been  the  result  ?  And  by  whose  arrangement  did  the  in- 
cident so  happen  that  I  escaped  ? 

Pursuing  my  journey,  I  came  to  a  place  where  the 
road  parted.  One  branch  turned  off  through  a  lofty 
grove  of  wood  ;  the  other  ascended  a  gentle  rise  towards 
a  house  near  by.  I  knew  not  which  to  take  ;  but  that 
leading  towards  the  house  best  suited  my  general  course. 
But  coming  up,  near  the  house,  there  issued  forth  from 


280  THE     MUSEUM. 

the  out-buildings  a  greater  kennel  of  dogs  than  I  had 
ever  before  seen,  and  assaulted  me  with  a  furious  yelling. 
I  stopped  short,  drew  up  my  hands  as  far  as  I  could  out 
of  their  reach,  and  stood  still.  They  snapped  at  me  very 
spitefully  with  their  jaws  within  a  few  inches  of  my  body. 
And  now  what  should  I  do  !  To  have  attacked  them, 
or  fled  precipitately,  would  have  been  instant  destruction. 
I  concluded  to  take  no  notice  of  them,  but  to  turn  about 
gently  and  take  the  other  road,  as  if  there  was  no  such 
creature  in  the  world  as  a  dog.  I  did  so,  and  they  fol- 
lowed me  for  about  twenty  rods,  snapping  at  me,  and 
seeming  to  say,  "  You  shall  not  escape,  we  will  have  a 
taste  of  your  blood."  And  in  this  design  there  seemed 
to  be  a  perfect  union,  from  the  great  bow-wow  down  to 
the  yelping  spaniel.  But  at  last  they  all  ceased  to  roar, 
bid  me  a  good-night,  and  disappeared  ;  and  I  was  not 
much  grieved  at  the  loss  of  their  company,  and  their 
music.  It  was  a  concert  in  which  all  the  discords  in  the 
whole  staff  were  put  in  requisition. 

The  next  place  where  the  reader  will  find  me,  is  a 
barn.  And,  indeed,  I  never  knew  the  full  value  of  such 
a  fabric  till  now.  Who  can  sufficiently  eulogize  its 
utility ;  were  I  a  poet,  its  praises  should  not  go  unsung. 
In  a  feeling  personification,  I  would  hail  thee  as  full  of 
mercy  to  the  brute  creation,  defending  them  from  the 
stormy  blasts  and  chilling  frosts  of  winter.  Nor  would 
I  stop  here ;  for  to  how  many  wretched  wandering  hu- 
man beings  hast  thou  been  a  kind  retreat !  Denied  even 
the  hearth  of  a  hard-hearted  avarice,  and  proud  unfeel- 
ing luxury,  they  had  perished  in  the  high-way,  had  not 
thy  hospitable  doors  been  open  for  their  reception.  To 
thee,  as  the  means  of  protection  from  floods  of  rain  and 
cold,  I  owe  the  preservation  of  my  life. 

Had  I  ventured  into  the  habitations  of  men,  instead  of 
those  of  the  horned  ox.  my  escape  had  been  impossible. 
Soon  after  escaping  the  fury  of  the  dogs,  in  this  peaceful 
abode,  I  took  up  my  lodgings  for  the  night.  A  man  com- 
ing into  it  in  the  morning,  I  made  bold  to  slide  do\vn  from 
the  hay-loft ;  and,  after  making  some  apology  for  tres- 
passing upon  his  premises,  I  asked  him,  if  it  was  proba- 
ble I  could  get  some  refreshment  in  the  house.  He 


THE     MtTSETTM.  287 

seemed  to  think  I  could.  I  then  entered  the  house,  and 
stated  my  wants ;  but  as  I  did  not  design  to  be  a  mean, 
dishonest  beggar,  first  get  what  I  wanted,  and  then  say  I 
had  nothing  to  pay,  or  sneak  off,  and  say  nothing  about 
pay.  I  told  the  family  I  had  but  three  coppers  with  me, 
so  that  if  they  gave  me  meat  or  drink,  it  must  be  done 
merely  on  the  score  of  charity.  But  the  woman  seemed 
to  be  thinking  more  about  providing  something  for  the 
relief  of  a  wretched  sufferer,  as  I  must  have  appeared  to 
her,  than  about  money.  But  the  old  man  was  trouble- 
some with  his  questions.  He  said  it  was  but  a  few  days 
ago  two  men  called  at  his  house  and  told  a  story,  which 
was  found  to  be  all  false ;  and  at  last  he  observed,  out- 
right, "  I  believe  thee  also  is  a  rogue" — but  the  woman 
would,  now  and  then,  as  he  pressed  hard  upon  me,  check 
him,  and  say,  "  Do  let  him  alone."  She  had  no  questions 
to  ask — all  she  wanted  was  to  feed  me ;  and,  had  it  not 
been  for  her,  I  know  not  what  the  crabbed  old  man  would 
have  done  with  me. 

And  here,  O  woman !  in  gratitude  to  thy  sex,  let  me, 
with  the  famous  Ledyard,  remark,  that  while  I  have  often 
found  man  too  rough  and  cruel,  when  I  have  been  a  suf- 
fering stranger,  or  have  been  borne  down  with  discour- 
agement and  sorrow  at  home,  I  have  seldom  found  thee 
otherwise  than  gentle,  kind,  and  humane.  After  I  had 
taken  my  refreshment,  I  said  to  the  old  man,  "  I  thank 
you  for  your  kindness — here  are  three  coppers,  all  I  have 
to  carry  me  a  long  journey."  He  did  not  take  them,  but 
said,  "You  may  give  them  to  that  little  girl."  She  took 
them ;  but  if  she  was  illiberal  and  mean,  the  old  man 
made  her  so.  I  left  the  house,  and  going  a  short  distance, 
a  spacious  plain  opened  to  my  view ;  and  on  it,  by  the 
tents  I  saw,  I  concluded  there  was  an  encampment  of 
soldiers.  I  therefore  turned  aside  into  the  field,  ascended 
a  stack  of  rye,  covered  with  a  Dutch  cap,  and  here  I 
remained  all  the  day,  it  being  very  stormy  ;  but  in  the 
evening  I  looked  out  from  my  hiding-place,  and  behold  a 
most  lovely  moon-shine  had  succeeded  the  storm.  The 
tents  had  all  disappeared,  and  I  took  up  my  journey  over 
the  plain. 

Some  time  in  the  latter  part  of  the  night,  I  reached  the 


288  THE    MTTSEtTM. 

east  end  of  it,  and  saw  before  me  a  number  of  buildings, 
though  before  this,  I  had  not  seen  any  on  the  plain.  But 
no  sooner  had  I  come  up  to  the  first  house,  than  I  was 
drawn  into  a  scene  of  the  utmost  peril.  In  the  midst  of 
the  road  there  was  a  blacksmith's  shop  ;  on  the  north  side 
there  was  a  lane  forming  a  right  angle  with  the  road,  and 
leading  up  to  a  house  about  twelve  rods  from  it.  To  the 
westward  of  the  house,  about  eight  rods  distant,  stood 
the  barn,  and  a  lane  leading  from  the  house  to  it ;  and  the 
square,  three  sides  of  which  were  formed  by  the  road 
and  these  two  lanes,  was  the  garden ;  and,  in  the  corner 
of  this  garden,  near  to  the  house,  I  discovered  a  number 
of  bee-hives,  and  I  coveted  some  of  the  honey.  I  went 
first  up  to  the  house,  and  though  the  door  was  open,  I 
saw  no  light,  and  heard  no  noise.  But  I  deemed  it  pru- 
dent not  to  climb  over  the  fence,  just  at  the  door  of  the 
house,  to  get  at  the  bees,  but  to  take  the  lane  down  to  the 
barn,  and  there  to  get  into  the  garden,  and  come  up,  un- 
der cover  of  the  fence,  to  the  bee-house.  This  I  did  not 
then  call  stealing ;  for  I  was  in  an  enemy's  land,  and  might 
make  prize  of  whatever  I  could  lay  my  hand  upon.  But 
this  opinion,  I  now  fear,  will  not  stand  the  test  of  the  day 
of  judgment. 

Having  just  stepped  into  the  barn-yard,  and  not  sus- 
pecting the  least  danger,  I  saw  a  great  number  of  horses 
tied  all  around  the  yard,  with  all  their  manes  and  docks 
cut  in  uniform.  I  stood  motionless  for  a  moment,  and 
began  to  say  to  myself,  "  What  does  this  mean  ?  Can 
one  farmer  own  so  many  horses?"  But  before  the 
thought  was  finished,  and  as  unexpected  as  a  flash  of 
lightning  in  a  clear  day,  a  dragoon  coming  out  of  the 
barn,  with  his  burnished  steel  glittering  in  the  bright  rays 
of  the  moon,  stepped  up  to  me,  and  challenged,  "  Who 
comes  there  ?"  I  answered,  "  A  friend."  But  before  he 
could  say  to  whom,  a  plan  of  escape  must  be  formed,  and 
put  in  execution.  It  was  formed,  and  succeeded.  Before 
he  could  ask  the  second  question,  I  called  out,  as  if  I  were 
angry,  "  Where  is  the  well :  I  want  to  get  som«  water  ?" 
Taking  me,  from  this  seemingly  honest  and  fearless  query, 
to  be  one  of  the  party,  he  showed  me  the  well,  and  I  went 
to  it  deliberately,  drew  \vater,  and  escaped  put  of  his 


THE    MUSEUM.  289 

hands.  The  fact  was,  as  I  soon  found,  this  was  a  detach- 
ment of  horse  and  foot  going  out  on  the  island  for  forage, 
to  be  conveyed  to  the  army  at  New  York,  and  doubtless 
he  supposed  me  to  be  a  person,  a  wagoner,  perhaps,  at- 
tached to  it.  And  here  again  I  found  the  great  advan- 
tage of  losing  my  hat.  Having  a  handkerchief  tied  about 
my  head,  helped  me  in  the  deception. 

The  hand  of  Providence  was  here  very  striking  in  two 
things — the  instantaneous  invention  of  a  plan  of  escape 
in  such  an  unexpected  emergency,  and  taking  from  me 
every  emotion  of  fear.  I  was  naturally  timid ;  but  here 
I  knew  not  what  fear  was,  but  had  the  most  perfect  com- 
mand of  myself.  A  little  hesitancy,  a  little  faltering 
through  fear,  would  have  been  fatal.  After  leaving  the 
well,  I  went  down  the  lane  into  the  road,  near  the  black- 
smith's shop.  At  this  moment  four  of  the  party  came 
out  from  behind  the  opposite  side  of  the  shop,  in  full 
view,  at  the  distance  of  about  three  rods  from  me.  I 
stood  motionless,  and  said  to  myself,  "  All  is  now  lost." 

But  their  attention  was  taken  up  with  a  Small  dog,  with 
which  they  were  sporting.  But  as  they  did  not  come  at 
once,  and  seize  me  in  the  brightness  of  the  moonlight,  I 
began  again  to  conceive  hope,  and  edged  away  to  the 
fence,  and  rolled  through  between  the  two  lower  rails. 
Soon  afterward  the  men  said,  "  Let  us  go  to  the  barn, 
and  turn  in,"  and  immediately  disappeared.  Their  sport- 
ing with  the  dog,  in  itself,  was  a  trifling  circumstance, 
but  to  me  it  was  a  great  event.  It  saved  my  life — to  me, 
in  the  hour  of  despair,  it  brought  deliverance. 

Stretching  along  as  close  as  I  could  lie  to  the  lower 
rail  of  the  fence,  I  took  a  little  time  to  survey  my  situa- 
tion on  all  sides,  and  to  discover,  if  I  could,  any  opening 
for  escape.  If  I  attempted  to  save  myself  by  going  into 
the  open  field,  I  must  be  discovered  by  the  sentries,  and 
picked  up  by  a  dragoon.  If  I  remained  where  I  was,  it 
would  soon  be  day-light,  and  I  could  not  be  mistaken  for 
one  of  the  party.  About  thirty  rods  ahead,  I  discovered 
a  large  house,  illuminated  from  the  ground  floor  to  the 
garret.  This  I  was  sure  must  be  the  main  bivouac  of 
both  infantry  and  horse,  and  wagons  were  in  numbers 
passing  on  to  this  house.  At  last  I  hit  upon  this  plan 

47 


290  THE    MUSEUM. 

when  another  wagon  should  pass,  I  would  rise,  and  lay 
hold  of  it  behind,  and  let  it  carry  me  forward  into  the 
midst  of  the  party,  and  they  would  suppose  me  to  belong 
to  it.  The  driver  sitting  under  cover,  forward,  could  not 
be  able  to  see  me.  When  the  next  wagon  passed,  I  at- 
tempted to  get  hold  of  it,  but  could  not  overtake  it,  and 
was  left  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  considerably 
advanced  towards  the  house  just  mentioned  as  the  gene- 
ral rendezvous.  And  now,  as  no  other  mode  of  escape 
offered,  I  resolved  to  walk  boldly  and  leisurely  into  and 
through  the  midst  of  the  throng  of  men  and  horses,  and 
wagons  and  sentries,  and  pass  away  if  I  could.  The  plan 
succeeded — I  passed  fearlessly,  with  great  deliberation, 
erect  and  firm,  without  any  shyness,  through  the  midst 
of  them.  Some  eyed  me  carefully,  yet  no  one  said, 
"  Who  art  thou  ?" — and  I  was  soon  out  of  sight,  and  hid 
in  a  dense  prim-bush  fence,  lest  a  suspicion  should  arise 
that  a  strange  man  had  passed,  and  a  dragoon  should 
pursue  me. 

Twenty  miles  further  to  the  eastward,  I  narrowly  es- 
caped falling  again  into  the  hands  of  the  same  party. 
Had  I  not,  without  any  knowledge  or  intention  of  my 
own,  happened  to  take  another  road,  I  should  have  met 
them  in  full  march  on  their  return  ;  and,  being  in  the 
day-time,  escape  would  have  been  next  to  impossible.  As 
it  was,  my  road  brought  me  on  to  the  ground  where,  the 
night  before,  they  had  chosen  to  bivouac,  and  I  found 
their  fires  still  burning. 

After  leaving  my  hiding-place  in  the  prim  fence,  I  soon 
found  myself  in  a  large  orchard,  in  quest  of  fruit.  I  had 
examined  nearly  every  tree,  and  found  none.  But  just  as 
I  was  about  to  give  up  the  search,  I  lit  upon  a  tree,  where 
the  ground  was  covered  with  the  fairest  and  richest  spe- 
cies of  apple  I  ever  tasted.  They  refreshed  me  as  if 
they  had  been  gathered  from  paradise,  having  neither 
eaten  nor  drank  any  thing  for  a  considerable  time.  How 
all  the  other  fruit  in  the  orchard  should  have  been  gath 
ered  in,  and  the  produce  of  this  uncommonly  excellent 
tree  left,  struck  me  as  a  mystery.  It  was  no  miracle,  but 
it  was  a  mercy  to  a  wretched  sufferer,  then  burning  uf. 


THE    MUSEUM.  291 

with  fever  and  thirst.  I  now  sought  for  and  took  up  my 
lodgings  in  the  birth-place  of  my  Saviour. 

Prosecuting  my  journey  on  a  succeeding  evening,  I 
happened  to  lie  opposite  to  a  house  standing  a  little  out 
of  the  road.  Before  I  was  aware  of  the  danger,  a  dragoon 
met  me,  and  stopped  so  near,  I  could  have  put  my  hand 
on  his  holsters.  Now,  thought  I  to  myself,  "  I  am  taken" 
— but  what  a  blessed  thing  it  was  I  lost  my  hat !  The  old 
dirty  handkerchief  upon  my  head  saved  me  again.  From 
this  appearance,  taking  me  to  be  the  master  of  the  house 
near  by,  he  says,  "  Have  you  any  cider  ?"  "  No,  sir," 
was  my  reply ;  "  but  we  expect  to  make  next  week — call 
then,  and  we  shall  be  glad  to  treat  you."  This  said,  we 
each  went  his  own  way. 

Commencing  my  journey  at  another  time,  early  in  the 
evening,  I  was  accosted  by  a  man  of  stern  appearance 
and  address,  standing  on  the  door-step.  He  wished  to 
know  whence  I  came,  and  where  bound.  I  told  him  I  had 
just  sailed  out  of  New  York,  bound  to  Augustine  in  Flo- 
rida, and  was  driven  ashore  by  an  American  privateer,  a 
little  to  the  eastward  of  Sandy  Hook,  and  was  making 
my  way  down  to  Huntington,  where  I  belonged. 
"  What,"  says  he,  "  you  belong  to  an  American  privateer  ? 
I  wonder  you  have  not  been  taken  up  before."  By  this, 
it  seems,  he  would  have  apprehended  me  had  he  known 
what  I  was.  He  was,  no  doubt,  a  Long  Island  tory.  But 
I  replied,  "  Sir,  you  mistake  me,  I  did  not  say  I  belonged, 
or  had  belonged,  to  an  American  privateer.  I  meant  to 
say  I  belonged  to  an  English  vessel  out  of  New  York,  and 
had  been  driven  ashore  by  such  a  privateer.  Then,  with- 
out further  ceremony,  I  passed  on,  and  he  did  not  attempt 
to  stop  me.*  And  now  again  I  sought  rest  and  conceal- 

*  When  I  had  got  clear  of  the  prison-ship,  and  commenced  my  journey 
to  the  east  end  of  the  island,  one  of  my  first  concerns  was,  to  frame  a  story 
that  might  serve  to  prevent  my  being  seized,  and  returned  back  to  captivity. 
In  this  story  I  mixed  just  as  much  'ruth,  and  just  as  much  falsehood,  as 
would  render  it  probable,  and  deceive  an  enemy.  And  the  substance  of  it 
was  what  I  stated  to  this  man ;  subject,  however,  to  such  variations  as  cir. 
cumstances  would  require.  And,  at  the  time,  I  had  no  reproaches  of  con. 
science  for  this  falsehood.  It  was,  I  supposed,  justified  by  expedience  or 
necessity.  But  I  now  wholly  condemn  this  reasoning.  I  have  no  idea  it 
can  be  right  to  tell  a  lie  to  any  rational  being  in  the  universe  to  sava  my 


292  THE    MUSEUM. 

ment,  as  it  grew  late  in  the  evening,  and  again  I  found  it 
in  a  barn.  But  I  had  now,  by  exposure,  contracted  a  vi- 
olent cough,  and  could  not  suppress  it,  though  deep  sunk 
in  a  hay-mow.  The  owner  coming  into  the  barn  in  the 
morning,  heard  me,  but  he  offered  me  no  disturbance,  and 
I  hoped  it  would  have  been  my  peaceful  retreat  for  the 
whole  day.  But  some  time  after  the  man  who  visited  the 
barn  had  left  it,  a  number  of  children  came  up  to  it,  and 
placed  their  hands  against  the  door,  and  gave  it  a  violent 
shaking,  crying  out,  at  the  same  time,  "  Come  out,  you 
runaway,  you  thief,  you  robber !"  and  then  retreated 
with  great  precipitation.  But  I  did  not  remove  out  of 
my  bed,  hoping  they  might  not  give  me  another  such 
honorable  salute.  But  it  was  not  long  before  they  ap- 
peared again,  and  cried  out,  "  Come  out,  you  old  rogue, 
you  runaway,  you  thief.  We  know  you  are  here,  for 
daddy  heard  you  cough ;"  and  then  retreated  as  before. 
And  I  retreated  also,  fearing  some  older  children  might 
honor  me  with  a  visit,  and  find  out  in  very  deed  that  I 
was  a  runaway. 

After  I  had  experienced  so  many  narrow  escapes,  and 
had  now  passed,  as  I  supposed,  and  as  proved  to  be  the  fact, 
beyond  all  further  danger  from  foraging  parties,  scouts,  and 
patrol  of  a  military  character ;  and  though  the  fever  was 
still  upon  me,  yet  it  seemed  rather  to  abate,  than  to  be 
aggravated  by  all  the  exposure,  cold,  storms,  fatigues, 
fears,  anxieties  and  privations  I  endured  ;  I  inferred  with 
great  confidence  that  it  was  the  design  of  Almighty  God 
that  I  should  yet  again  see  home ;  and  entering  a  wood, 
where  no  human  eye  could  see  me,  I  fell  upon  my  knees, 
and  looking  up  to  Heaven,  I  attributed  to  Him  all  my 
deliverances,  and  all  the  understanding,  assistance  and 
strength  by  which  I  had  been  sustained ;  and  besought 
the  continuance  of  his  mercy  to  extricate  me  from  all 

life,  or  even  my  soul.  I  now  protest  against  all  lies,  in  every  shape  or  form 
— whether  lies  of  levity,  vanity,  convenience,  interest,  fear,  or  malignity. 

Lying  is  entirely  inconsistent  with  obedience  or  trust  in  God,  whether  we 
run  into  it  to  avoid  the  greatest  danger,  or  obtain  the  greatest  good.  Peter 
supposed  that,  to  save  his  own  life,  he  must  abjure  all  knowledge  of  Christ. 
But  did  he  do  right  ?  I  have  never  heard  him  justified.  He  did  not  justify 
himself;  for  when  he  reflected  on  what  he  had  done,  he  went  out  and  wept 
bitterly. 


THE     MUSEUM. 


remaining  danger  and  sufferings,  and  to  complete  my 
deliverance.  I  arose,  and  now  went  forward,  more  than 
ever  under  a  sense  of  the  Divine  goodness  and  protection. 
I  come  now  to  a  day  in  which  various  and  interesting 
incidents  occurred.  I  now  ventured  to  travel  in  open 
day-light,  and  no  longer  to  ask  protection  from  the  sable 
honors  of  an  absent  sun.  Commencing  my  journey  early 
iu  the  morning,  I  came  to  a  large  and  respectable  dwell- 
ing-house, and  thinking  it  time  to  seek  something  to 
nourish  my  feeble  frame,  for  appetite  I  had  scarce  any, 
I  entered  it.  Neatness,  wealth,  and  plenty  seemed  to  re- 
side there.  Among  the  inmates  of  it,  a  decent  woman, 
who  appeared  to  be  the  mistress  of  the  family,  and  a 
tailor,  who  was  mounted  upon  a  large  table  and  plying 
his  occupation,  were  all  that  attracted  my  notice.  To 
the  lady  I  expressed  my  wants,  telling  her  at  the  same 
time,  which  was  my  invariable  practice,  if  she  could  im- 
part to  me  a  morsel,  it  must  be  a  mere  act  of  charity, 
giving,  and  hoping  to  receive  nothing  again.  For  pov- 
erty was  a  companion  of  which  I  could  not  rid  myself. 
She  made  no  objections,  asked  no  questions,  but  prompt- 
ly furnished  me  with  a  dish  of  light  food  I  desired.  Ex- 
pressing my  obligations  to  her,  I  rose  to  depart.  But, 
going  round  through  another  room,  she  met  me  in  the 
front  entry,  placed  a  hat  on  my  head,  put  an  apple-pie 
in  my  hand,  and  said,  "  you  will  want  this  before  you  get 
through  the  woods."  I  opened  my  mouth  to  give  vent 
to  the  grateful  feelings  with  which  my  heart  was  filled. 
But  she  would  not  tarry  to  hear  a  word,  but  instantly  van- 
ished out  of  my  sight.  The  mystery  of  her  conduct,  as 
I  suppose,  was  this :  she,  her  family  and  property,  were 
under  British  government.  She  was  doubtless  well  sat- 
isfied that  I  was  a  prisoner  escaping  from  the  hands  of 
the  English ;  and  if  she  granted  rne  any  protection  or 
succour,  knowing  me  to  be  such,  it  might  cost  the  family 
the  confiscation  of  all  their  estate.  She  did  not,  there- 
fore, wish  to  ask  me  any  questions,  or  hear  me  explain 
who  I  was,  within  hearing  of  that  tailor.  He  might 
turn  out  to  be  a  dangerous  informer.  I  then  depart- 
ed ;  but  this  mark  of  kindness  was  more  than  I  could 
well  bear,  and  as  I  went  on  for  some  rods,  the  tears  flow- 

47* 


294  THE     MTTSEVM. 

cd  copiously.  What  a  melting  power  there  is  in  human 
kindness !  The  recollection  of  her  humanity  and  pity 
revives  in  my  breast  even  now  the  same  feeling  of  grati- 
tude towards  her.  Oh,  how  true  are  Solomon's  words, 
"  A  man  that  hath  friends,  must  show  himself  friendly." 

Indeed,  there  were  but  two  things  that  could  thus  dis- 
solve me  in  my  greatest  sufferings  and  dangers ;  and 
these  were,  an  act  of  real  kindness  and  compassion  from 
a  stranger,  and  the  thought  of  the  pungent  grief  rny  mis- 
fortunes must  occasion  to  the  kindest  of  mothers.  As  to 
my  father,  his  paternal  affection  and  care  had  been  long 
sleeping  in  the  grave. 

By  and  by  I  began  to  recollect  and  consider  what  the 
lady  meant  by  the  woods.  I  supposed  it  possible  there 
might  be  a  forest  four  or  five  miles  in  length,  through 
which  I  might  pass ;  of  the  real  fact  I  had  not  the  least 
anticipation.  But  very  soon  I  came  to  the  woods,  and 
found  a  narrow  road  of  deep  loose  sand  leading  through 
them.  The  bushes  on  both  sides  grew  hard  up  to  the 
wagon  ruts,  and  there  was  not  a  step  of  a  side-walk  of 
more  solid  ground,  and  the  travelling  was  very  laborious. 
But  I  pressed  on  with  what  strength  I  had,  and  after  a 
few  miles,  supposed  I  was  nearly  through  the  wilderness, 
and  began  to  look  ahead  for  cleared  land  and  human 
dwellings,  but  none  appeared.  After  I  had,  with  great 
labor  and  almost  insupportable  distress,  travelled  a  dis- 
tance I  deemed  at  least  nine  miles,  I  met  two  men  press- 
ing on  in  a  direction  opposite  to  my  own.  They  seemed 
to  be  in  a  hurry,  and  anxious  to  know  how  far  I  had 
come  in  these  woods.  "  About  nine  miles,"  said  I ;  "  how 
far  have  you  come  in  them  ?"  They  replied,  "about  the 
same  distance,"  and  immediately  pushed  forward,  asking 
me  no  other  question.  Then  said  I  to  myself,  "  Here  I 
make  my  grave.  Farewell,  thoughts  of  home,  and  all 
earthly  expectations  ;  here  I  must  lie  down  and  die !" 
My  feet  were  swelled  so  that  the  tumefaction  hung  over 
the  tops  of  my  shoes  for  three  fourths  of  an  inch,  and  I 
was  about  to  seek  out  a  favorable  spot  to  lie  down  and 
rise  no  more.  But  at  this  instant  something  seemed  to 
whisper  to  me,  "  Will  it  not  be  just  as  well,  if  you  must 
die,  to  die  standing  and  walking  ?"  I  could  not  say  no 


THE     MUSEUM.  295 

and  resolved  to  walk  on  till  I  fell  down  dead.  And  this 
whisper  has  been  of  great  service  to  me  in  after-life, 
when  I  have  been  ready  to  sink  in  discouragement  under 
difficulties  and  troubles,  or  opposition  and  persecution. 
For  I  have  since  found  that  the  Old  Jersey  was  not  the 
only  abode  of  inhumanity  and  wo ;  but  the  whole  world 
is  but  one  great  prison-house  of  guilty,  sorrowful,  and 
dying  men,  who  live  in  pride,  envy,  and  malice,  "  hateful 
and  hating  one  another  !" 

When  I  say,  "  I  have  been  ready  to  sink  under  such 
trials,"  I  have  recollected  these  woods,  and  said,  "  Will  it 
not  be  as  well  to  die  standing  up  as  lying  down  ?"  And 
thus  I  have  taken  courage  and  gone  forward,  and  the 
result  has  been  as  auspicious.  For  such  was  the  good- 
ness of  God,  that  I  was  carried  through  this  Long  Island 
wilderness,  and  a  little  before  sunset  I  discovered,  as  it 
were,  land  at  no  great  distance. 

The  first  house  I  came  to,  at  the  east  end  of  these 
woods,  I  entered  in  quest  of  humanity  and  pity.  But 
these  virtues  appeared  not  to  be  at  home  there.  Every 
thing  without  and  within  denoted  a  situation  happily 
above  penury,  or  the  trials,  vexations,  and  griefs  of  pov- 
erty. A  degree  of  elegance  and  neatness  appeared.  In 
the  kitchen  1  discovered  a  number  of  fish  just  touched 
with  salt  and  hung  up  and  dried.  My  feverish  appetite 
fixed  on  a  piece  of  one  of  these  fish,  as  a  rasher  that 
might  taste  well.  I  besought  the  lady  of  the  house  to 
give  me  a  very  small  bit ;  but  my  request  was  not  grant- 
ed. I  repeated  it  again  and  again.  But  her  denial  was 
irrevocable.  Now  thought  I,  I  will  try  an  experiment, 
and  measure  the  hardness  of  your  heart.  So  I  stated  to 
her  my  sickly,  destitute  condition;  told  her  she  might 
judge  by  my  appearance  that  I  was  overwhelmed  with 
misfortune,  and  had  been  very  unsuccessful  at  sea.  I 
wished  her  to  consider  how  she  would  be  delighted  had 
she  a  brother  or  dear  friend  suffering  in  a  strange  land, 
if  any  one  should  stretch  out  to  him  the  hand  of  relief, 
minister  to  his  necessities,  wipe  away  his  tears,  and  con- 
sole his  heart.  Indeed  I  suggested  every  thought  and 
plea  of  which  I  was  master,  that  could  move  a  heart  not 
made  of  steel.  And  what  was  it  all  for  ?  For  a  piece 


296  THE     MUSEUM. 

of  dried  blue-fish,  not  more  than  two  inches  square  !  And 
did  I  succeed  ?  No.  All  my  entreaties  were  in  vain ; 
so  without  murmuring,  or  casting  on  her  any  reflections, 
I  took  my  leave. 

Here,  O  woman,  thou  didst  for  once  forget  thyself, 
and  forfeit  thy  character  for  humanity  and  pity.  After 
I  was  gone,  I  presume  thou  didst  reflect  on  thine  own 
insensibility,  and  reproach  thyself;  and  I  most  cheerfully 
forgive  thee. 

Passing  on  but  a  few  rods,  I  entered  another  human 
dwelling,  and  what  renders  the  circumstance  that  took 
place  the  more  to  be  noticed  is,  it  appeared  to  be  a  tavern. 
I  expressed  my  wants  to  a  lady  who,  I  had  no  doubt,  was 
the  mistress  of  the  house.  By  the  cheerfulness  and  good 
nature  depicted  in  her  countenance,  and  her  first  move- 
ments, I  knew  my  suit  was  granted,  and  I  had  nothing 
more  to  say  than  to  apprise  her  that  I  was  penniless ;  and 
if  she  afforded  me  any  relief,  she  must  do  it  hoping  for 
nothing  again.  Now  behold  the  contrast!  In  a  few 
moments  she  placed  on  the  table  a  bowl  of  bread  and 
milk,  the  whole  of  one  of  those  fish  roasted,  that  I  had 
begged  for  in  vain  at  the  other  house,  and  a  mug  of 
cider.  And,  says  she,  "Sit  down  and  eat."  But  her 
mercy  came  near  to  cruelty  in  its  consequences  ;  for  al- 
though I  was  aware  of  the  danger,  yet  I  indulged  too 
freely.  My  fever  was  soon  enraged  to  violence,  and  I 
was  filled  with  alarm. 

It  was  now  growing  dark,  and  I  went  but  a  short  dis- 
tance further,  and  entered  a  house  and  begged  the  privi- 
lege of  lodging  by  the  fire.  My  request  was  granted, 
and  I  sat  down  in  silence,  too  sick  and  distressed  to  do 
or  say  any  thing.  But  I  could  see  and  hear.  There  was 
no  one  in  the  house  but  the  man  and  his  wife.  They 
appeared  to  be  plain,  open-hearted,  honest  people,  who 
never  had  their  minds  elated  with  pride,  nor  their  taste 
perverted  by  false  refinement,  or  that  education  which 
just  unfits  persons  to  be  useful  and  happy  in  the  common 
walks  of  life. 

They  possessed  good  common  sense,  which  is  the  best 
kind  of  sense.  Every  thing  within  indicated  economy 
and  neatness,  order  and  competence.  But  what  was  bet- 


THE    MUSEUM.  297 

te»  than  all  this,  they  appeared  to  be  cordial  friends  to 
each  other.  It  was  indeed  one  of  the  few  happy  matches ; 
nor  was  this  all,  for  I  soon  perceived  that  they  were  uni- 
ted by  still  higher  principles  than  mere  conjugal  affection; 
it  was  evident  that  the  fear  of  God  had  taken  up  his  resi- 
dence there.  Before  it  became  late  in  the  evening  the 
man  took  his  Bible  and  read  a  chapter,  and  that  with  a 
tone  and  air  that  induced  me  to  think  he  believed  it.  He 
then  arose  and  devoutly  offered  up  his  grateful  acknow- 
ledgments and  supplications  to  God,  through  the  Media- 
tor. By  this  time  I  began  to  think  I  had  gone  into  a 
safe,  as  well  as  a  hospitable  retreat.  They  had  before 
made  many  inquiries,  not  impertinent  and  captious,  but 
such  as  indicated  that  they  felt  tenderly,  and  took  an  in- 
terest in  my  welfare ;  but  they  evidently  obtained  no 
satisfaction  from  my  answers,  for  I  was  too  weary  and 
distressed  to  take  pains  to  form  or  relate  any  thing  like 
a  consistent  story.  And  I  was  the  less  careful  to  do  it 
from  my  supposed  safety,  founded  on  their  evident  fear 
of  God  and  kind  feelings.  But  they  seemed  as  if  they 
could  not  rest  till  they  had  drawn  from  me  the  real  truth, 
though  they  gave  not  the  least  hint  that  might  reproach 
me  for  the  want  of  truth  and  honesty.  At  last  I  resolved 
I  would  treat  them  so  no  longer — I  would  throw  off  the 
mask,  risk  all  consequences,  and  let  them  into  the  real 
secret  of  my  condition — and  said,  "You  have  asked  me 
many  questions  this  evening,  and  I  have  told  you  nothing 
but  falsehoods.  Now  hear  the  truth.  I  am  a  prisoner, 
making  my  escape  from  the  Old  Jersey,  at  New  York. 
Of  the  horrors  of  this  dreadful  prison  you  may  have  been 
informed.  There,  after  many  sufferings,  I  was  brought 
to  have  no  prospect  before  me  but  certain  death.  But 
by  a  remarkable  and  unexpected  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence I  got  on  shore,  and  having  had  many  hair-breadth 
escapes,  I  have  reached  this  place,  and  am  now  lodged 
under  your  hospitable  roof.  I  am  loaded  with  disease, 
and  am  in  torment  from  the  thousands  of  vermin  which 
are  now  devouring  my  flesh.  I  have  dear  and  kind 
friends  in  Connecticut,  and  am  now  aiming  to  regain  my 
native  home.  The  kindest  of  mothers  is  now  probably 
weeping  for  me  as  having,  ere  this,  perished  in  my  cap- 


298  THE    MUSEUM. 

tivity,  never  more  expecting  to  see  her  child.  Thus  I 
have  told  you  the  real  truth.  I  have  put  my  life  in  your 
hand.  Go  and  inform  against  me,  and  I  shall  be  taken 
back  to  the  prison-ship,  and  death  will  be  inevitable."  I 
ceased  to  speak,  and  all  was  profound  silence.  It  took 
some  time  to  recover  themselves  from  a  flood  of  tears  in 
which  they  were  bathed.  At  last  the  kind  and  amiable 
woman  said,  "  Let  us  go  and  bake  his  clothes."  No  soon- 
er said,  than  the  man  seized  a  brand  of  fire  and  threw  it 
into  the  oven.  The  woman  provided  a  clean  suit  of 
clothes  to  supply  the  place  of  mine  till  they  had  purified 
them  by  fire.  The  work  done,  a  clean  bed  was  laid  down 
on  which  I  was  to  rest ;  and  rest  I  did,  as  in  a  new 
world ;  for  I  had  got  rid  of  a  swarm  of  cannibals,  who 
were  without  mercy  eating  me  up  alive !  And  what, 
think  you,  were  my  views  and  impressions  in  regard  to 
what  had  here  passed  ?  Never  before  or  since  have  I 
seen  a  more  just,  practical  comment  on  that  religion, 
which  many  profess,  but  few  properly  exemplify:  "I 
was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat,  a  stranger,  and 
ye  took  me  in,  sick,  and  ye  visited  me."  With  wonder 
and  gratitude  these  words  chimed  in  my  very  soul.  Well 
might  I  have  said,  O  Jesus,  is  this  the  religion  thou  hast 
given  to  the  human  family  ?  If  it  universally  prevailed, 
the  woes  of  man  would  be  relieved,  and  heaven  would 
come  down  to  earth.  The  happy  couple  who  are  now, 
in  all  probability,  called  away  by  their  gracious  Redeem- 
er, to  fill  a  mansion  in  the  skies,  and  are  now  rejoicing 
before  the  throne  of  Him  whom  they  supremely  loved, 
appeared  to  enjoy  a  rich  reward  in  the  mercy  they  had 
shown  to  a  wretched  stranger.  It  was  all  they  asked. 
It  was  all  performed  with  such  cheerfulness,  such  tender- 
ness, simplicity  and  ease,  as  gave  to  Christianity,  by  which 
it  was  prompted,  a  beauty  which  must  have  compelled 
the  infidel  to  admire  what  he  affects  to  disbelieve. 

In  the  morning,  I  took  my  leave  of  this  dear  family, 
who  had  enchained  and  riveted  my  soul  to  them  by  their 
kindness,  in  esteem  and  gratitude,  which  have  for  fifty 
years  suffered  no  abatement. 

I  learned  from  them  a  lesson  of  humanity  I  have  ever 
remembered,  and  ever  wished  to  imitate.  The  day  was 


THE     MUSEUM.  299 

clear,  and  after  travelling  a  short  distance,  I  threw  my- 
self down  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  stinted  pitch-pine,  upon 
a  bed  of  warm  sand.  I  rested  as  on  a  bed  of  down. 

Omitting  the  notice  of  intervening  circumstances  and 
events,  in  about  a  week  after  this  I  found  myself  at  Sag 
Harbor,  at  the  east  end  of  Long  Island.  Nor  did  the 
kind  providence  of  God  forsake  me.  Again  I  found  hu- 
manity and  pity  in  a  public  house.  I  was  permitted  to 
lie  by  a  warm  fire,  (a  great  luxury,  the  weather  having 
become  cold,)  while  two  others  of  my  companions  on 
board  the  same  engine  of  perdition  to  American  seamen, 
having  made  their  escape,  were  denied  this  favor,  and 
had  to  take  lodgings  in  the  barn.  While  lying  on  my 
bed  of  down,  (the  warm  brick  hearth,)  the  door  of  an 
adjoining  room,  where  our  host  and  landlady  slept,  being 
open,  I  heard  her  say,  "I  could  not  consent  that  the  other 
two  should  lodge  in  the  house,  but  I  pitied  this  young 
man."  But  I  could  see  no  cause  for  this  difference  of 
feeling  in  this  woman,  but  the  agency  of  Him  who  hath 
all  hearts  in  his  hand.  In  a  few  days  an  opportunity  of 
crossing  the  sound  presented.  A  whale-boat,  with  a 
commission  to  make  reprisals  upon  the  enemy  came  into 
the  harbor.  Her  crew,  as  I  supposed,  were  a  set  of 
honest,  good  farmers,  who  resided  at  Norwich,  in  Con- 
necticut, where  I  was  born,  and  knew  my  connections. 
They  agreed  to  give  me  a  passage  to  New  London.  A 
sloop  also  came  into  the  harbor  with  a  like  commission, 
which  belonged  on  the  island.  This  boat  and  sloop  made 
sail  together,  one  bound  to  New  London,  the  other  to 
Saybrook.  But  the  weather  being  very  boisterous,  the 
boat  was  in  danger ;  so  we  all  went  on  board  the  sloop, 
and  the  boat  was  made  fast  to  her  by  a  tow-line.  But 
at  no  great  distance  from  Plumb  Island,  a  privateer,  which 
proved  to  be  out  of  Stonington,  pounced  upon  us ;  and, 
under  the  suspicion  of  our  being  illicit  traders,  carried 
us  all  into  New  London.  And  here  a  scene  of  wickedness 
was  developed,  of  which  I  could  not  have  supposed  my 
honest  friends  had  been  capable.  An  agent  had  been 
sent  to  New  York  with  golden  armor,  and  he  had  ob- 
tained a  quantity  of  dry  goods,  and  brought  them  to  Sag 
Harbor.  Here  the  cruising  whale-boat  was  to  receive 


300  THE    MUSEUM. 

and  carry  them  to  New  London,  where  they  would  be 
libelled ;  and  some  of  the  crew  would  come  into  court, 
and  give  oath  that  they  were  taken  from  the  enemy  by 
virtue  of  their  commission.  And  thus  a  trade  was  car- 
ried on  with  the  enemy  to  an  indefinite  extent.  These 
goods  were  put  on  board  the  sloop,  when  the  boat  was 
made  fast  to  her.  And  when  the  privateer  appeared, 
and  we  could  not  escape  her,  the  captain  of  the  sloop 
agreed  to  declare  the  goods  were  his,  and  that  he  had 
taken  them  as  a  lawful  prize  from  the  enemy.  And  the 
crew  of  the  whale-boat,  the  purchasers  and  owners  of 
the  goods,  were  to  swear  they  saw  him  do  it.  The 
goods  being  condemned  the  captain  of  the  sloop  was 
then  to  act  like  an  honest  rogue,  and  to  restore  them 
to  the  crew  of  the  boat.  But  after  the  goods  were 
actually  condemned,  and  the  crew  of  the  boat,  the  real 
owners,  had  in  open  court  sworn  that  the  goods  were  his 
by  lawful  capture,  the  captain  of  the  sloop  thought  he 
had  now  a  fair  opportunity  to  play  on  them  a  profitable 
trick.  Accordingly,  he  refused  to  restore  them,  and 
went  off  with  the  goods,  sloop  and  all,  to  Connecticut 
River.  But  the  crew  of  the  boat  were  not  willing  thus 
to  quit  all  claim  to  the  goods,  though  they  had  sworn  they 
were  not  theirs,  and  contrived  to  have  the  sloop  with 
the  goods  seized.  And  I,  who  knew  the  whole  story, 
was  sent  for  as  a  witness.  And  by  my  testimony,  and  that 
of  one  of  the  whale-boat's  crew,  who  had  not  testified 
before  that  the  goods  were  captured  by  the  captain  of 
the  sloop,  the  real  truth  came  to  light,  and  both  sloop  and 
goods  were  condemned  ;  so  that  the  crew  of  the  whale- 
boat  ultimately  obtained,  not  only  their  goods,  but  the 
sloop  also,  as  an  illicit  trader.  And  thus  the  treachery 
of  the  captain  did  not  prove  so  gainful  as  he  intended. 
He  was  taken  in  his  own  craftiness ;  an  event  so  com- 
mon, that  it  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that  all  rogues  do  not 
grow  sick  of  their  villany. 

In  this  business  it  was  hard  to  tell  who  were  the  most 
unprincipled  offenders — who  thought  least  of  the  guilt  of 
perjury,  and  trampling  under  foot  the  laws  of  their  coun- 
try. These  cruising  boats  were  sometimes  guilty  of  great 
injustice  and  barbarity  towards  the  peaceful  and  friendly 
inhabitants  of  the  island. 


THE     MUSEUM.  801 

There  was  no  small  excitement  in  Sag  Harbor  when 
I  first  arrived  there,  by  what  had  just  been  done  by  one 
of  them.  They  entered  a  house,  and,  not  content  with 
other  plunder,  they  tore  from  the  neck  of  a  woman  just 
confined,  her  golden  necklace.  How  awfully  true  are 
the  words  of  Paul — "  For  they  that  will  be  rich  fall  into 
temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurt- 
ful lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition. 
For  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil."  1  Tim.  vi. 

I  had  now  travelled  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and 
was  safely  landed  at  New  London.  And  to  me  it  was  a 
great  mercy  that  we  were  captured  by  the  privateer  out 
of  Stonington ;  otherwise  I  should  have  been  carried 
into  Connecticut  River,  much  further  from  home.  But 
no  sooner  did  I  set  my  foot  down  in  a  land  of  safety, 
than  I  immediately  sank  under  the  power  of  that  disease 
which  had  preyed  upon  me  ever  since  I  left  the  prison- 
ship.  It  will,  perhaps,  scarcely  be  believed  that  I  could 
have  travelled  so  far,  encountered  such  hardships,  braved 
the  chilling  storms  of  autumn,  put  up  in  the  cold  retreat 
of  barns,  shivered  in  wet  clothes,  drenched  in  rain,  with- 
out medicine,  nursing,  or  any  diet  commonly  esteemed 
proper,  and  yet  all  this  time  have  been  under  the  opera- 
tion of  an  inveterate  and  settled  fever.  I  should  myself 
have  judged  that  scarcely  any  person  could,  in  such  a 
condition,  have  survived.  I  should  have  supposed  his 
fever  must  have  come  to  a  speedy  crisis,  and  he  must, 
most  probably,  have  died.  But  this  was  not  the  case. 
The  fever  did  not  seem  to  be  on  the  whole  much  in- 
creased, but  it  stuck  fast  to  me.  And  what  follows  will 
put  this  matter  out  of  question.  After  arriving  at  New 
London  I  could  travel  only  about  three  miles,  and  all 
my  strength  failed,  under  the  reviving  power  and  rage 
of  the  fever.  But  in  this,  perhaps,  the  kind  hand  of 
woman  had  some  agency.  The  lady  at  Sag  Harbor,  who 
pressed  me  in  her  pity,  thought  of  my  welfare  after  I 
should  leave  her  house,  and,  unsolicited,  gave  me  a  meat- 
pie  and  a  bottle  of  cider.  Though  I  had  not  much  relish 
for  the  pie,  yet  my  thirst  tempted  me  to  drink  the  liquid. 
I  had  before  drank  freely  at  the  press  without  injury. 
But  here  is  the  difference :  the  cider  in  the  bottle  was 

48 


302  THE     MUSEUM. 

fermented.  I  think  it  had  some  hand  in  producing  the 
relapse. 

When  I  could  go  no  further,  I  found  a  man  who  was 
kind  enough  to  carry  me  to  Norwich  Landing.  And  I 
tarried  there  with  a  relative,  till  my  friends  at  Plainfield 
were  informed  of  my  arrival,  and  my  eldest  brother  came 
with  a  carriage  to  help  me  home.  The  first  night  I 
lodged  with  a  brother  at  Canterbury.  This  night  I  deem- 
ed myself  to  be  dying,  and  going  directly  to  my  long- 
home.  But  the  next  day  I  so  revived  as  to  reach  the 
dwelling  of  my  mother.  A  most  affectionate  mother, 
who  always  seemed  willing  to  live  or  die  for  the  good 
of  her  children,  and  who  had  made  up  her  mind  to  sub- 
mit to  the  will  of  God,  and  never  more  to  see  her  son,  and 
a  child  broken  down  with  sickness  and  other  calamities, 
and  needing  all  her  soothing  attentions,  can  imagine  what 
a  kind  of  meeting  it  was  !  For  a  day  or  two  it  seemed 
to  me  I  was  getting  better.  I  was  unwilling  to  be  sick 
any  longer.  I  now  wished  to  live  and  enjoy  home  ;  and 
I  almost  resolved  I  would  no  longer  complain  of  pain  or 
weakness.  I  would  get  well  at  all  events.  But  the  will 
of  God  was  not  so,  and  I  perceived  it  was  vain  to  strive 
with  my  Maker.  My  resolution  failed,  my  heart  sunk.  I 
took  to  my  bed.  and,  as  almost  every  one  supposed,  to  rise 
no  more.  For  about  three  weeks  I  was  in  a  state  of  per- 
fect derangement,  and  not  able  to  articulate  a  word  so 
as  to  be  understood. 

But,  about  ten  days  after  this,  an  unexpected  and  fa- 
vorable crisis  was  formed  in  my  disease,  and  I  awakened 
as  it  were  out.  of  the  grave.  I  say  unexpected,  for  my 
death  was  looked  for  as  certain.  A  joiner,  who  lived 
near  at  hand,  afterward  told  me,  that  having  seen  me  the 
evening  before,  and  my  brother  calling  at  his  house  the 
next  morning,  he  did  not  ask  how  I  did,  having  no  doubt 
but  he  had  come  to  speak  for  my  coffin.  Dr.  Parish,  who 
was  then  fitting  for  college  at  the  academy  at  Plainfield, 
likewise  told  me  that  he  not  only  regarded  my  death  as 
certain,  but  the  suspension  of  his  studies  to  attend  my 
funeral. 

When  I  found  myself  recovering,  it  occasioned  a  kind 
of  regret,  on  the  ground  that  I  should  have  the  affair  of 


THE     MUSEUM.  303 

dying  all  to  go  over  again.  But  still  I  could  not  but  con- 
sider myself  as  a  brand  plucked  from  everlasting  burn- 
ings. But  it  turned  out  in  the  end,  that  this  fearful  view 
of  the  certain  perdition  of  such  as  die  impenitent,  did  not 
convert  my  soul.  I  entered  into  many  solemn  vows,  even 
after,  to  live  to  God ;  but  I  proved  unfaithful  to  these 
vows.  For  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  an  unconverted  heart 
to  be  steadfast  and  faithful  in  a  covenant  with  God. 

There  were  at  this  time  certain  evangelical  and  impor- 
tant truths  of  which  I  was  not  convinced,  and  without 
which  I  perceive  there  can  be  no  sound  conversion.  I 
did  not  know  what  it  was  to  be  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins.  Though  I  found  my  heart  was  not  right  in  the 
sight  of  God,  yet  I  did  not  know  that  1  was  such  a  slave 
to  sin,  that  there  was  no  moral  power  in  me  ever  to  turn 
from  it  to  the  real  love  of  holiness.  Hence,  to  change 
my  heart  and  lead  a  holy  life,  I  secretly  depended  on  my- 
self and  not  on  a  divine  influence.  This,  I  fear,  is  the 
great  error  of  thousands.  Hence  their  awakenings  and 
their  conversions  come  to  nothing.  This  entire  moral 
helplessness  and  dependence  on  the  Spirit  of  God,  to  give 
a  new  heart  and  power  to  live  a  new  life,  I  trust  I  was 
afterward  taught  by  experience  to  understand. 

Another  circumstance  of  spiritual  darkness  was,  I  did 
not  possess  a  clear  view  of  the  essential  and  momentous 
distinction  between  false  religious  affections,  and  such 
as  were  genuine.  I  was  ready  to  think  all  sorrow  for 
sin,  all  kinds  of  repentance,  all  kinds  of  love  to  God  and 
Christ,  were  religion.  But  this  1  afterward  found  to  be 
a  most  dangerous  error.  Like  Peter's  love  to  Christ, 
when  he  would  not  have  him  go  up  to  Jerusalem  and 
suffer;  so  a  great  deal  of  love  to  God  is  nothing  but 
hatred.  Some  may  love  him  so  well  that  they  cannot 
bear  to  hear  his  true  character  ascribed  to  him.  They 
think  it  is  heaping  dishonor  upon  him,  which  they  cannot 
bear.  Is  this  true  love  ?  At  last  I  trust  I  found  that  no 
love  of  God  has  any  religion  in  it  but  that  which  prima- 
rily arises  in  the  soul,  from  a  view  of  the  infinite  excel- 
lence and  moral  beauty  of  the  divine  character,  consid- 
ered just  as  it  is,  independent  of  all  selfish  considerations. 

It  is  a  grand  discovery  in   religion  to  find  that  tho 


3t)4  *  THEMUSEUM. 

greatest  and  most  glorious,  and  even  the  very  least  exer- 
cise of  it,  consists  in  that  charity  which  seeketh  not  its 
own.  For  the  want  of  this  discovery  how  doth  selfish- 
ness, illiberality,  avarice,  indifference  to  the  house  of  God 
and  the  best  interests  of  men,  prevail  in  the  character  of 
many  professors  of  godliness ! 

Some  time  in  the  latter  end  of  October,  1781, 1  arrived 
at  home.  And  near  the  close  of  winter  I  so  far  regain- 
ed my  health,  through  the  great  kindness  of  the  God  of 
love,  as  to  engage  in  the  instruction  of  a  school  in  the 
town  where  I  resided;  and  since  that  period  almost  my 
whole  life  has  been  devoted  to  the  instruction  of  youth, 
and  preaching  the  everlasting  gospel.  And  whether  my 
life  has  been  in  any  degree  useful,  or  whether  it  would 
have  been,  as  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  man- 
kind, as  well  that  1  should  have  made  my  grave  in  the 
Old  Jersey,  will  doubtless  be  made  manifest  in  the  last 
day.  Of  one  thing  I  am  certain,  that  is,  it  becomes  me 
10  say  to  the  God  of  unchanging  love,  in  review  of  the 
whole  history  of  my  life — 

"  Thy  thoughts  of  love  to  me,  surmount 
The  power  of  numbers  to  recount." 

*  Both  volumes,  including  the  plates,  contain  618  pages. 


END  OF  VOLUME  SECOND. 


nil    Tfilit     .  'I  .ill     V''  j   S   81   )I 


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